


Supply Run

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Awkward Dates, Bottom Dean, Canon Divergent, Case Fic, Castiel Can Hear Longing, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Dating, Destiel Positive, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jealous Dean, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Possessive Dean, Profound Bond, Sparring, Temporary Character Death, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, clueless Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick hardware store run to replenish supplies. What Dean didn't count on was for Cas to run into a potential love interest in the form of another man. Through the course of Cas' dating, and a few hunts, Dean comes to many realizations.Canon divergent up to S11. I don't really have a set time except that it was before S12.





	1. ~ Dean ~

* * *

“If we split up we can get outta here faster and grab those drinks,” Dean says. He rips the shopping list into thirds and hands a piece each to Sam and to Cas, keeping the last for himself. He grabs a shopping cart and steers it through the hardware store to find some flashlights, then goes off to grab extra flares and a couple more iron crowbars before he's ready to meet at checkout.

Sam is not far behind, dumping batteries, chain and rope into the cart. He gets out his phone and leans against a display case to check messages while they wait on Cas.

And wait. And wait some more.  
  
“What is taking Cas so damn long?” Dean mutters. “Stay with the cart. He's probably in the gardening section eyeballing daffodils.”

Sam doesn't look up from his phone but he snorts in acknowledgment.

The hardware store is getting ready to close for the night and is pretty much dead. He keeps half expecting to see the shag of dark chestnut hair above or through the foliage in the garden center but there isn’t a soul in sight. It’s kinda creepy so he turns around to go back to Sam, figuring that he and Cas must’ve crossed paths and didn’t even know it.

And then he sees him, doing a double-take when he passes the paint department. Dean didn’t find Cas in gardening ogling flowers but Dean was right about one thing: Cas is definitely eyeballing something. Or he should say someone is eyeballing Cas.

Dean stumbles upon Cas standing close to a man in his mid-thirties, exactly Cas’ height but with a broader build. Cas is engrossed in whatever this guy is telling him but he visibly straightens and maintains eye contact with Dean as he approaches.

Dean can hear the tail-end of something Cas is saying. “...no partners, as in professionally. We work together.” Dean realizes the guy must have asked if Cas knew the (if Dean says so himself) handsome, bow-legged, flanneled guy.

“Cas, ready to go? Where's the rest of the shit you were supposed to grab?” Dean asks, noting he only has part of his list’s items.

Cas ignores his question in favor of introductions. “Dean, this is Lucas. Lucas was just telling me about his artwork.” Cas smiles at the man with ash-blond hair and gray eyes. Dean steps close enough to press a shoulder into Cas. “He's a painter,” Cas adds in an informative whisper.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” Dean says looking pointedly at the rainbow of splattered paint on Lucas’ khakis and on his rough, calloused hands. Dean shakes himself, reminds himself to not be a douche and reaches out a hand. Firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you, man.”

“So Castiel tells me you work together as ‘partners’. What are you guys, spies?” Lucas jokes despite his obvious nerves, his smile easy, teeth perfect.

“I have been known to do some undercover work but I cannot disclose information about it,” Cas says with careful practice. The brothers and Cas had come up with responses to questions like this so they weren’t caught off guard. At the best Cas was getting careful hands-on experience, at worst he was getting, well, Dean didn’t want to think about that.

“Cops? Secret service? Promise I won’t tell.” Lucas tucks his hands into his pant pockets and relaxes, content to keep talking when all Dean wants to do is grab Cas and run for the exit. Why are they still standing here?

“I would liken our work to more that of vigilantes than officers of law,” Cas says.

Lucas’ expression changes from interest to something like awe. “So you’re like a superhero, then?” He takes a half-step toward Cas and suddenly Dean feels claustrophobic. “You’re like a puzzle. A really, really interesting puzzle.”

Cas tilts his head at Lucas. “Every being is complex, including you. A puzzle is a very interesting analogy, a metaphor I should definitely consider more deeply.” Cas gets that far away, squinty look as he contemplates philosophy and anthropology and whatever other shit he contemplates.  
  
Lucas grins and ducks his head and he takes one of his hands out of a pocket to wave gently in front of him in proposition. “Look, I know this is weird and I don’t really do this but I was wondering if you’re, uh, available?”

“I am usually available,” Cas says hesitantly. “Why do you ask?”

Dean watches the back-and-forth in confusion. Cas doesn’t engage with people like this, usually giving the bare minimum attention required to gain information for a case and then he moves on. And he never makes himself available for something that isn’t a mission. Well, except Dean. Dean is the exception. What is going on right now?

“Cas? We, uh, really need to go,” Dean interrupts. He is feeling a heavy case of the third wheel at the moment, his mind spinning out of control.

“Dean? Cas? What the fuck? I thought we split the list up to make this snappy.” Sam pushes the cart down the aisle to meet the three men but his scowl disappears when he notices Lucas. “Oh, hi. Didn't realize you were talking to someone.”

“This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Dean’s brother, Sam.” Cas looks at his list. “Well I only needed to grab the spray paint. I already have the nails.” Cas looks down at the boxes of iron nails he has in one of those hand baskets and places them into the cart. They’re easier to melt down into bullets than anything else they’ve found.

Sam is already ahead of everyone, striding halfway down the aisle, past where the three other men are grouped together, to pick out several cans of red and black spray paint.

Lucas looks uncomfortable that he’s imposed on them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. I just had to stop and ask your name. To answer your question, I’d really like to get to know you more. Would it be okay if I called you some time? We could go out and--”

“We’re going out right after this,” Cas says, looking expectantly at the brothers.

Dean can’t find his voice but Sam is smiling and nodding, obviously coming into the middle of this and not understanding that there is no reason to hang out with this Lucas guy. “Yeah, man, join us if you want. We’re heading down to Mickey’s for a few beers and probably darts.”

Cas turns back to Lucas. “We just got back from a case. We like to ‘throw a few back’ when we are successful.”

Lucas rubs the back of his hair nervously and chuckles. “Yeah, sure, that’d be awesome. Did you all ride separate or do you want a hitch a ride with me, Cas?”

Dean can feel himself actually bristle at the sound of the nickname, that he himself gave the angel, coming off of that tongue so easily. He still can’t seem to say anything, hands crammed into his pockets, his chest constricted as he hunches into himself.

He feels unfairly possessive and silently berates himself. It isn’t fair to keep Cas from making friends and this guy seems harmless. Dean is probably reading too far into… whatever he just witnessed.

“I’m sure that’s alright. I can help you finish your shopping and then we’ll meet the brothers,” Cas says. “Sound good? Dean?” Everyone turns to look at Dean whose thoughts are still derailing.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Dean says coolly, clearing his throat. He can’t be the asshole here. He wants to be but they’re all watching and he doesn’t want to be outed about why. He isn’t sure he even understands it.

He and Sam turn to the self-checkout where Dean proceeds to toss things onto the belt roughly while Sam scans the barcodes and bags everything up.

“Dude, you’re gonna break that, chill,” Sam says in irritation, grabbing a pack of mints from the candy display once he's done scanning the rest of their order. Dean grumbles under his breath and pays. “Is this about Lucas?”

“Well, what if the guy’s a demon or a shifter?” Dean whispers harshly.

“Don’t you think Cas would’ve seen or sensed something? Look, it’d actually be cool to make some friends and try to have some normalcy in our lives. Now that most of the big shit has been put to rest and we just have regular ol’ ghosties and ghouls to deal with on occasion, it’d be nice to, I don’t know, go to a neighborhood barbeque once in awhile.”

“They’re not all they’re cracked up to be,” Dean mutters, recalling his time in suburbia. “Most of those people are fake.”

“This is coming from the guy who lies professionally?” Sam crosses his arm and purses his lips.

“Shut it and help me carry this crap.”

About twenty minutes later the brothers are grabbing a booth at Mickey’s just down the road and waiting. Normally they grab seats at the bar, not really needing a table if they’re not buying dinner, but four's a crowd so a table will have to do.

“Should we order a round?” Sam asks when the door pushes open and Cas walks in with Lucas right behind. Cas pauses, his steady gaze roaming over the patrons until they land on Dean and he smiles softly. Dean’s heart does a flip and he lifts his hand up in greeting, replacing the dopey grin on his face with a laid-back calm he isn’t exactly feeling.

“Lucas had to buy some paint, a particularly pleasant shade of orchid,” Cas says, settling into the booth, Lucas sliding in next to him. Dean silently curses himself for not having sat opposite his brother so Cas wasn’t next to the new guy.

Dean’s face must be telling because Cas shoots him a glare like he’s telepathically urging him to be nice. Sam orders a round of beers over Dean’s head as Dean screws on a smile to address their new ‘friend’. “So Luc, I’m gonna call you Luc, just what are you painting with orchid-colored paint? What color is that, anyway?”

Luc chuckles and relaxes against the booth. “Luc is just fine. Well, orchid is a purple. I paint as a hobby and find the interior latex paints from the hardware store are more affordable and pleasing to choose from than the art supply store. It’s my medium.”

“Medium? Like, as in witchcraft?” Dean asks, leaning closer, honing in on the word like a strange beacon. He’s been in this life too long, he realizes, if he can’t have a normal fucking conversation without suspecting everyone of everything.

“Uh no.” Luc glances at Cas and back to Dean. “That is what artists call their preferred method of materials. I paint mostly on canvas but do some commissions for larger projects. But enough about me, I’m sure that’s boring as hell, guys.”

“I find art fascinating,” Cas says as a waitress brings by four glasses and a pitcher of beer off the tap. Sam starts pouring drinks for everyone while Luc blushes, perceiving Cas’ genuine friendliness for a flirtation. “Art is one of the most beautiful parts of humanity. And there are so many ways to be creative. Song, dance, poetry and writing, drawing and, of course, painting.” Cas and Luc smile at one another.

“Pssh, you know what I do for art? Fixin’ engines and fishing,” Dean jokes but everyone gives him an odd look.

“I suppose, in a way, either could be viewed as art,” Luc says slowly. “I mean, fixing cars up definitely takes patience and finesse.”  
  
“I’d call those recreational, bro,” Sam says coolly. “‘A’ for effort though.”

“Ah, pool,” Dean says, ignoring his brother muttering about it being recreational, too. “Pool is art. Strategy. Skill. Speaking of which...” He hitches a thumb toward the clack-clack-clack of billiard balls being struck somewhere behind their booth.

“Yeah, why don’t we go play before it gets even more crowded?” Sam says, downing his beer in two more gulps. He shoves his brother off the booth so he can scoot out.

“Alright, how you guys wanna do this? Teams?” Dean asks, grabbing a triangle from the wall and claiming the last available pool table. He starts to rack the balls.

“How about the brothers versus us, huh?” Luc asks, nudging Cas gently with his shoulder. “Uh, are you gonna play in your coat and jacket?”

“Oh I-- yes. I mean, no. I suppose it would be easier if I took them off.” Cas walks back to the table and peels off his trench coat, followed by his suit jacket, leaving them on the bench. He rolls up his sleeves on his way back with two pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Sam sighs loudly in annoyance behind Dean’s shoulder.

“Geez, look at what you’ve been hiding under that stuff,” Luc says approvingly. Cas looks down at himself in confusion. He would have continued to play pool in the layers of clothing because he maintains his vessel’s temporal comfort with his grace, but damn if Dean isn’t at least appreciative of Luc suggesting Cas take some of it off.

The appreciation turns sour, into something green and envious quickly, when he realizes Luc is feeling proud of himself for suggesting it, too. Dean clenches his jaw and thrusts a cue stick into Sam’s hands. Luc is a little too friendly and Dean doesn't like it.

Normally Dean is on the game, devouring his opponents. But every time he lines up a shot he can sees Luc laying a light hand on Cas’ arm and laughing about something in his periphery of his eyes.

“Wow, you suck tonight,” Sam says on his turn. “Maybe you should sit the rest of this game out and let me whoop these two singlehandedly.”

Dean rolls his eyes but refuses to be put down. “Just shut up and take your shot.”

He’s still feeling at odds as Cas takes up Luc’s personal space rather than his own, and he tries to pacify himself with the thought that it’s only because they’re teammates. Regardless, he steps closer to hear their conversation because they keep wandering a little further away from the table to talk when it isn’t one of their turns.

“Painting is just my hobby, pseudo side business. I’m actually a nursing assistant at a nursing home,” Luc is saying.

Great, add a feather to his cap, everybody. He helps old people as they transition from life into the beyond. He spoon-feeds grandmothers and listens patiently to dying men talk about their glory days. He administers medication with great care and puts up with crappy daytime television for his patients’ comfort... He is noble and kind and perfect, got it.

Cas is instantly intrigued. “I once sat at a nursing home with a man for some time. We had helped him through a very difficult ordeal, through a mental relapse. In the end he was very comfortable and happy.”

“Luc, your turn. What do you mean ‘we’, Cas?” Sam asks. Everyone regroups closer to the pool table so everyone can hear each other. “Cas, you were the one who helped him. If you weren’t there I don’t know how we’d have saved him and wrapped up the case.”

Luc takes a shot and sinks a ball. When he straightens up, a look of tenderness washes over his features as he looks at Cas, because of Sam’s comment. Cas, however, looks taken aback and Dean ashamedly realizes they don’t thank him enough for his part in all that they do. He really should try to be better at that.

“Sam, you were very instrumental in that case. It was a team effort. In light of all that I’m sure you would have found a way had I not been there. You Winchesters always do,” Cas replies.

“Where was Dean for this case? Were you not on it?” Luc asks, handing the cue stick to Cas, their fingers brushing.

Dean swallows hard. He had been busy getting his face smashed in with a frying pan and chasing down the bad guy through Looney Tunes, thankyouverymuch. But he doesn’t want to toot his own horn and instead focuses on taking his shot. He is so frustrated he strikes the ball too hard and completely misses what should have been an easy sink. Sam levels him with a tight-lipped bitchface and snatches the cue stick from him.

Cas responds for him. “While both brothers are intelligent and share the heavy lifting, Sam is often the brains and Dean the brawns. That isn't to say Dean isn't intelligent, because he is,” Cas says easily, which floors Dean, “but Dean took down the thief we were after. We all had our parts and were successful because of how we work together.”

Luc smiles slowly. “I would have thought you’d be the brawns. You look very strong.”

“I am very strong, yes,” Cas says simply, not with pride or machismo but as just an observational norm. He leans down resting said strong arms on the table ledge, the cue stick relaxed between thumb and forefinger as he strategizes his move. “I often do a lot of the ‘heavy lifting’ as well.”

Luc frowns. “That sounds dangerous. Is what you do dangerous?”

Dean laughs and says, darkly, “Yes, very. We’ve been through more than you can imagine.” His sardonic expression smooths out. “But again, secret confidential shit and all that. Maybe we should talk about something else.”

In the end Luc and Cas beat them. They switch to darts where Dean hits near the center almost every time. Sam did awesome, Cas the best. Luc, well, at least got them all on the target.

The biggest problem of the whole night is, to Dean’s dismay, that Luc is actually… nice.

Once Luc got comfortable he started opening up and joking around a bit more. Dean found that Luc has a love for classic rock and is an absolute geek for sci-fi, and even if he doesn't know anything about classic cars, his knowledge of cult classic films makes up for it.  
  
Hell, if Dean didn't have somebody else on his mind every other damn minute, of every day, he might've taken a stab at Luc, and not the killing kind.

“You like Star Wars, Dean?” Luc asks once they’re back at their booth and taking down another round of beers. “I was once asked to paint a kid’s room. I did a huge Death Star that covered almost an entire wall. Hey, I might have a picture on my phone still.” Luc scrolls around for a minute and thrusts his phone at Dean.

The guy is fucking brilliant. It looks straight out of a movie poster, with realistic details. It must have taken days, if not weeks, to complete. Dean almost forgets that he had decided to dislike the guy.

When it is time to end the night Dean doesn't want to leave an opening for Luc to weasel his way into their lives so he tries to quickly steer Cas out the door. But Luc had no problem asking Cas to wait up so they, just the two of them, could exchange phone numbers.

They ride home in silence but Dean takes the time to formulate an idea. He’ll find a case, tonight if he has to, and they’ll leave tomorrow. Hell, he’ll find another case before they finish that one so they’ll have something lined up immediately. He’ll show Luc just how unavailable Cas really is and he’ll lose interest. Easy as pie...


	2. ~ Cas ~

Cas had been wary of the stranger stopping him in the hardware store. With no one the wiser Cas quickly looked within and saw a genuine, kind soul and so he stopped to see what the man had to say.

It turns out Lucas is fun and really easy to speak with. Cas knows he needs to fine-tune his people skills. Making friends outside of the hunter’s circle, and outside of heaven, could do a great deal of good in that regard. He can learn much of humanity from one of its nicer souls.

Cas tucks his phone back into his pocket. Lucas had asked to input his number into Cas’ phone just before they left the bar for the bunker, which is just outside of town. Dean turns on the music in the car, the cue for everyone to leave him alone with his musings.

Overall he feels the evening went well. He made proper introductions between everyone when they first met. He tried to make eye contact and listen well, responding appropriately, making sure Lucas didn't feel left out. Cas is confident that this new friend would be good not only for him, but for the brothers as well.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes it out to find a text. Lucas had put a heart emoticon by his name, which is very thoughtful, though a little confusing. 

 

 _[Luc <3]_  
_Had a good time tonight. Thanks for inviting me._

 _[Cas]_  
_Yes, we should do it again some time._

 _[Luc <3]_  
_I’d really like that. I’ll call you. Tomorrow ok?_

 _[Cas]_  
_Yes that is fine. :-)_

 _[Luc <3]_  
_;-)_

   
Cas smiles and puts his phone away, looking out the window at passing streetlights and rows of quiet houses as they leave the town behind for the more rural area where the bunker sits solitary and imposing.

The brothers head to bed but Cas stays up to read. . He finally peels himself away from a book of poetry bright and early in the morning. He is surprised to find Dean at the kitchen table, coffee made, laptop open to the news. He’s also dressed and bright-eyed despite how late they were up.

“Mornin’, Sunshine. There’s coffee if you want some,” Dean says without looking up.

Cas pours himself a mug and sits across from Dean. “What are you doing?” He takes a sip. He likes the way Dean makes coffee. Sam tends to make it a little more bitter.

“Finding us… a case,” Dean says distractedly. Green eyes dart up over the laptop when Cas continues to watch him. “What? I get antsy if I have to sit around too long. I thought I found us one, but it’s out Jody’s way so the girls are handling it.”

Cas leans back and continues watching Dean, watching as the light from the laptop illuminates his face in a pale blue glow, his eyes roaming across articles like a typewriter.

They’ll stretch all the way across and snap back to the start to read the next line. Again and again until Dean’s mind has consumed the words and processed them. The screen darkens minutely indicating he had closed a browser tab, while a flash of new light indicates a new article being pulled up.

The more Dean concentrates, the more his tongue slips out between his lips. Cas tilts his head ever so slightly as he stares and thinks about the things Dean could do with it. He's seen enough of the pornography to know they're not just useful for eating and speaking.  
  
He is jolted from his thoughts when that perfect tip of tongue slips back inside and Dean's dimples flash. Cas instantly looks up into Dean’s eyes and can feel the soft thrum of longing there, tempting him. The longing Dean refuses to act upon.

“Mornin’ guys,” Sam says as strolls in, still in pajamas, interrupting his connection with Dean when Dean looks away to address his brother.

“What? No sweaty gym shorts and sneakers from a torturous mornin' jog?” Dean quips, his eyes returning to the laptop. The longing is still there but shadowed and guarded.

“Nah, up too late last night. I’ll get it in tomorrow. What’re you doing?” Sam walks around to peer past Dean’s shoulder. “Locked room deaths? That sounds promising.”

“Hmph," Dean snorts. "Tell that to the vics.”

Sam rolls his eyes and continues reading. “Says here there’s already been four deaths. That’s a lot, Dean. We should go check it out.”

Dean grins, eager to get on the case. “Exactly my thoughts. It’s maybe a five hour hop from here. You guys wanna finish up breakfast and head out? Should get there before two if we don’t drag our feet.”

“Of course,” Cas says. 

Sam and Cas would not realize that this first case would lead to an entire month of being on the road because Dean would find another case after another. After a big argument between Sam and Dean, they finally wind their way back to the bunker in irritable exhaustion. Dean disappears to his room while Sam compiles all of the laundry and Cas collapses into a chair in the Library.  


_[Cas]_  
_Just got home._

 _[Luc <3]_  
_Finally! Thought I’d never see u again._

 _[Cas]_  
_It was not typical. Usually we are gone a few days at a time._

 _[Luc <3]_  
_If u r free 2nite I was wondering if u and I could have dinner?_

  
Cas hesitates to respond to the last text. He has needed to sleep once in awhile with his fading grace but he still doesn’t require food. Even pretending to eat is not always pleasant. Still, it would be rude to refuse, especially as it has been so long since he’s seen his friend.  


_[Cas]_  
_Of course. Where should I meet you?_  


“Hey, Cas, when you’re done with whatever could you help me archive the shit we brought back?” Sam asks, setting a heavy bag on the table in front of Cas. “What are you doing?”

“Lucas messaged me and wants me to go to dinner tonight,” Cas says distractedly, looking up directions for the restaurant Lucas suggested on his phone browser. When Sam doesn't respond, Cas looks up and finds Sam watching him thoughtfully.  
  
Before he can ask why Sam is looking at him like that, Sam says, “Don’t you think maybe you should find different clothes then? I mean, if you’re going to have human friends, other than us, they’ll probably expect to see you wear something different once in awhile.”

“You are absolutely right, Sam,” Cas says, looking down at his clothes. He feels like he has just received revelation. Yes, this is exactly the right path in learning more about blending in. He had gotten back into the habit of maintaining the same clothing, not realizing he should continue to change clothes, after regaining some grace.

“Well, come on, then. We can hit up the nearest Walmart and at least get you a couple pairs of jeans and some shirts. Start to fill those drawers in your room and make it your own.”

Cas almost asks if Dean wants to come but he had driven much of the trip and was practically falling asleep on the way to his room. Better to let him sleep and get this errand over quick. Sam helps him pick out a few things and a couple of hours later Cas is gingerly folding them and putting them in the drawers of his threadbare room.

For dinner tonight, he chooses a charcoal sweater and faded denim jeans to wear, but before he leaves he wants to find Dean to say goodbye. A quick peak into Dean’s room reveals he is up from his nap, the bed empty. 

The smell of beef cooking, and the sound of the radio blasting AC/DC (a lot more loudly than Cas cares for) tells him exactly where Dean is at. Cas heads to the kitchen and watches Dean, leaning against the wall just inside the doorway.   
  
Dean is having a good time by himself, lip-syncing into his spatula with over-exaggerated facial expressions. He slides across the floor in socks and turns around, startling violently when he locks eyes onto Cas’ form.

“Holy. Shit," Dean blurts out and Cas is punched by the emotions overwhelming Dean's person. How can humans handle so much at once?

“Uh, sorry, Dean,"  Cas grimaces as he straightens up, pushing off the wall. "I just wanted to say I was leaving and will be back later.” Dean is still as a statue, staring with his mouth agape, so Cas lifts up a hand in farewell and heads to his truck.

Lucas is already seated outside on the patio at the little bistro when Cas arrives, standing to greet Cas and give him a hesitant, brief hug. At first Cas is startled by the gesture but he remembers that hugs are a normal human greeting. He just isn't used to it from anyone other than the brothers. Cas returns it, a little stiffly, smiles and takes a seat.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got us a table outside. I like to look at the stars.”

“I do as well.” Cas looks upward. It is hard to see many of them with the artificial lights in the way but nevertheless he knows that they are there. “They help to remind me of the path that I am on. And they make me feel very infinitesimal lately.”

Lucas laughs. “That’s quite the vocabulary you have coming from that mouth.” He ducks his head and clears his throat. Cas isn’t quite sure how to respond to that comment so he changes the subject, something he learned from the brothers.  
  
“Thank you for meeting me here. I know you insisted on picking me up but my location needs to remain private for the time being.”

“That all sounds incredibly mysterious and alluring. It makes it very difficult to not pry. Speaking of prying, I do have something I want to share with you but I wasn’t ready to say anything. But I just don't think it should wait.”

Cas feels an odd lurch in his stomach. What could this person possibly have to say to Cas that would give him such pause. Cas worries several scenarios involving the occult or angels but breathes a sigh of relief when Lucas simply says, “I have a daughter.”

“Children are wonderful, that’s great,” he says enthusiastically. Lucas smiles so brilliantly, in such relief, though Cas is still confused as to why Lucas would be worried about disclosing this information to him.

“Do you have kids?” Lucas asks. Cas’ stomach lurches again. Does he mention Claire? She isn’t technically his child.

“I do not have kids, no.” Cas takes a sip of the water that is sweating circles onto the tabletop, more for something to do than actually being thirsty. “So your daughter? What is her name?”

“Her name is Grace. She’s four and an absolute baby-doll. I have her every other weekend.”

“I’m sorry? You don’t have her usually?”

“She lives with her mother but I get to have her every other weekend. We don’t have to talk about that. But Grace, she’s amazing. Want to see a picture?”   
  
"Of course." A picture of a little blonde girl with a ponytail and toothy smile is placed before him. “She is very beautiful,” Cas murmurs. “I don’t have a whole lot of experience with children but I did babysit once. You are very blessed to be able to be a father.”

“That's just really awesome to hear. I mean, not your lack of experience. Just the fact that a kid isn’t making you run for the hills,” Lucas says, pocketing his phone.

Perplexed, Cas squints at Lucas, trying to decipher the use of the idiom in this context. Cas has no desire to run for the hills because Lucas has a child. Why would he?

Their waitress comes by and saves him from embarrassing himself by asking for clarification. After they order, a club sandwich for Lucas and a bowl of vegetable soup for Cas, Lucas asks, “So a month long case?”

“Yes, it was actually more than one mission. Dean kept finding more work for us and so one case became five.”

Lucas sets his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his hand. “Do you use a gun? Did you have to take someone down?”

Cas flushes a little. He has killed whole armies of angelic hosts, innumerable supernatural beings and countless humans. He'd rather not talk about death. Best to keep all of that far from his friend. “I mainly use a blade. Sometimes other weapons, a lot of hand-to-hand combat.”

“Wow, really? Maybe you could show me some moves some time.” Lucas looks so hopeful.

“Of course. You never know when it could be useful. Everyone should have at least the basics of self defense.”

“I'll bet. What else do you like to do when you're not saving people and fighting evil?”

Cas chooses his words carefully. “Missions keeps me busy much of the time. But otherwise I translate ancient text into English, maintain cleanliness in our home, read, watch nature and contemplate the universe.”

“Wow wait, so you are not only extremely attractive but you are strong, protective, intelligent and soulful? If you weren’t so sincere I would think that you were only putting your best foot forward to impress me but you seem honest.”  
  
  
_[Dean]_  
_Where r u_  
  
  
Cas looks down at his phone. “Sorry, I should answer this. I live with the brothers. I guess Dean was waiting on me and I never did tell him where I was going.”

“Oh no, of course.” Lucas looks away as though the act gives Cas more privacy even though he cannot see the screen.  
  


 _[Cas]_  
_I’m at dinner with Lucas._

 _[Dean]_  
_Oh._  
  


The waitress brings their food and Cas is grateful for the distraction of it. While Lucas is easy to speak with, it is exhausting having to mind every single word that he says to be sure he doesn’t reveal too much about his real life, about who he really is, and it gives Cas pause. Who is he anyway? Somewhere between heaven and humanity. An angel playing human.

“You live with your partners? Is that typical?”

Cas tilts his head and considers it a moment, considers all of humanity and what he knows of family units. “I don’t suppose it is conventional. But we have been through much, and they took me in when my own family turned their backs on me. They are my family above all else, not just my partners in battle.”

Lucas nods through a bite and swallows. “In _battle_? That sounds ominous. Dean said that your work was dangerous but you can’t tell me anything about it? It makes me feel concerned about you.”

Cas smiles sadly. “I don’t think you need to concern yourself with me.”

“Why not? Don’t you think you’re important? Because it sure as hell sounds like you’re important. You avoided my question earlier, when I asked if you took anybody down, killed, whatever. I get the feeling that the avoidance was due to guilt. I know enough veterans at the nursing home, hear their same stories told by different voices almost daily. I know the look of a weary soldier riddled with guilt over actions that he had to take under a command. So maybe you can answer me this instead: how many people, children, families have you _saved_?”

Cas doesn’t know what to say. He flounders, feels his mouth open and slam shut. Usually he just focuses on everything he’s done wrong, which is quite a lot.

“Uh, well, I couldn’t count them.” As much as they’ve screwed up and started end-of-the-world disasters, he and the brothers have righted many wrongs and literally saved the world. More than once. They’ve saved billions. In fact, Dean told him that God must have kept bringing Cas back ‘to fix things’ and then Dean pushed him onward to do just that.

“See? Don’t think about all the bad, focus on the good.” Lucas smiles at him and Cas smiles back. It is comforting advice.

When the waitress comes by again to ask about dessert Cas declines. He had eaten his bowl of molecular, mushy vegetables in broth and did not want to eat dessert. He can feel Dean’s longing and worry, as well, prickling his senses and distracting him. Perhaps next time they can all get together so no one feels left out.

“I should be going,” Cas announces when the waitress drops the bill on the table instead of getting a dessert menu. Cas grabs it before Lucas can. He doesn’t want his friend to pay for food that an angel didn’t actually need. He waves him off.

Lucas doesn’t seem happy to be ending the night and is fidgeting a little. It’s harder to pick up feelings from people other than Dean unless Cas uses more of his powers, but Cas doesn’t want to pry so he lets him be. Knowing what he is feeling won’t change the fact that Cas wants to go home.

“We should do it again some time. I mean, if you want?” Lucas asks.

“Of course, Lucas.” Cas stands and claps him on the shoulder before the man can stand. “I'll talk with you soon.”


	3. ~ Dean ~

Dean had been in the middle of putting together Taco Night, after a much-needed nap on memory foam heaven, when he caught sight of Cas demurely watching him in… what were those? Normal clothes?

Clothes that actually fit him and showed off what he’s been hiding under the damn coat? Of course, he’s seen Cas’ body before. But this was different. The casual lean, the hooded eyes, the soft charcoal grey against creamy olive skin was new. It was… right.  
  
Sure, he startled but, at this point, he's used to Cas popping up behind him. His exclamation had more to do with the heart-stopping vision leaning against the wall, watching Dean shake his ass as he cooked dinner, than with anything else.   
  
Dean hadn't been able to figure out anything more intelligible to say before Cas left so Dean texted him after awhile, when it became clear Cas wasn't returning any time soon. And that's when he got the next big shock of the night. Cas had dressed up… for dinner with Luc.  
  
He has a bad feeling about this. Not a life-and-death bad feeling, but an overall gut-twisting, sick-to-the-stomach bad feeling. Who does this Luc guy think he is? He doesn’t know Cas, doesn’t realize that Cas will take almost everything he says literally, that Cas is just being friendly. Luc doesn’t know what Cas has been through, what he’s done. Because if he did know then he’d run and never look back.  
  
Keeping them all on cases for a month, in hopes the guy would forget and move on, was tiring. It ran everyone haggard, even Cas with his powers. Dean could do this through his twenties but nearing forty he just wants his damn bed, his dead guy robe, and some popcorn and Netflix with _his_ best friend.  
  
But now Dean is considering looking up another case. He can’t pinpoint exactly what his deal is except that he just doesn’t want Luc nosing into their lives, taking Cas away on what should’ve been _their_ taco and movie night. People get close to them and they get killed; that’s what Dean reminds himself and maybe he should remind Cas as well.  
  
Sam comes in from his own nap, long after dinner turned cold, and doesn’t ask about Cas. It dawns on Dean that Sam may know where Cas went and probably helped him out with his new wardrobe. Who else would have?  
  
“ _You_ took him shopping? For clothes?” Dean crosses his arms, watching his brother heat up some beef for his taco bowl.  
  
“Uh, yeah? What’s with the third degree, man? He’s practically human, or trying to act like it, so he should have some regular clothes. We should’ve gotten him set up a long time ago, Dean. It was overdue.”  
  
Dean can't argue with that so he clenches his jaw and goes into the Library to snap open his laptop. He slouches in his chair and glares at the screen, arms folded. It should've been him taking Cas shopping. Why didn't he think of offering?

He is on his third beer and a second episode of The Office --not even Dwight’s and Jim’s stupid antics are able to boost his spirits-- when the bunker doors squeak open.  
  
He glances at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. It’s not even 10 p.m. Part of him feels a jolt of victory about that but he stays glued to the spot, stiffening when the chair next to him scrapes across the floor as Cas pulls it back. With a happy sigh his friend sits down and slouches into the seat.  
  
He can feel Cas watching his profile before leaning in to bump his shoulder and asks, “How are you, Dean?”  
  
Dean shrugs and narrows his eyes at Michael Scott, who is acting like a complete buffoon. He isn’t sure how he is doing, only that he knows he’s probably being unreasonable, as usual. He decides silence is better than opening his mouth to spew words that could either hurt him, hurt Cas, or both.    
  
“Well, I’m sorry I missed our movie. I forgot what day it was with all the traveling we’ve done. Do you still want to watch? We can pop some popcorn and watch in your room. These chairs don’t feel very good after long periods of time.”   
  
Dean looks over at him, studies Cas' features for a moment. Cas is frowning like the chairs have personally affronted him.

Alright, so Cas wants to make some other friends, fine. He had gone out but he came back just so he didn’t miss their movie. Cas always comes back to him, always.  
  
Dean can feel his resolve melting and he smiles slowly, letting out his breath. “Yeah, okay, Cas.”  
  
“I am so happy to be home,” Cas says when he stands and stretches, his hips at Dean’s eye level. The stretch hikes his tight, gray shirt up and he gets an eye-full of hipbone and a trail of dark hair leading down below Cas' waistband.

Suddenly movie night in his bed seems more dangerous than safe. But hell if that’ll stop him. Then again, he knows nothing will come of it but he files away this visual aid for a future alone time... Ugh, and what does that say about how pathetic he is, for crushing on his best friend?

Dean gathers up his laptop and the charger, hugging it tight. He is about to announce what they will watch when he stops himself and realizes he does that, all the time. He always says what they’re going to watch and Cas goes along with it. Dean wants to know what Cas likes instead of just assuming, or pushing his own agenda.  
  
“So what do you wanna watch, Cas?” Dean asks.

Cas looks confused for a second but then smiles. It near does Dean in, how easy it is to please this larger-than-life, colossally-powerful celestial being with something so simple.  
  
“I really like that first Star Trek movie. Would you like to watch that?”  
  
“Yeah, man, that’s great. Why don’t you go pop the popcorn and I’ll go get it started up?” Dean watches Cas stride confidently toward the kitchen, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up, his ass hugged in denim.  
  
Dean makes a beeline for his room and quickly makes the bed before setting the laptop in the middle and plugging it in. He had drained the battery while pouting in the Library.  
  
By the time the movie is queued, Cas is walking in with a bowl, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. For a being who hates food he sure does love his coffee. And popcorn, but that probably has more to do with the crunch than taste because popcorn is basically butter-flavored styrofoam.   
  
“Oh, why don’t you, uh, get your pillow? I only have the one. And do ya wanna wear that? Denim isn't the most comfortable thing to lounge around in. Didn’t Sam help you get, I dunno, sweats or something?”  
  
Cas looks down at his jeans and shakes his head so Dean hops up and digs through his dresser, pulling out a pair of navy blue cotton pants. He hands them to Cas, exchanging them for the bowl of popcorn Cas is still holding.

“You can, uh, keep these. Unless they don’t fit, or whatever.”  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas looks at the pants in his hands like he’s just been offered a pallet of gold. “I’ll be right back.”

Cas disappears and Dean heaves a deep breath. What the hell is he doing, saying? Cas manages to ditch his Constantine costume one night and Dean goes foaming-at-the-mouth rabid for dressing Cas up in better fitting clothes.  
  
Dean sits down against the headboard, on top of the bedding, with his pillow behind him. Without so much as a howdy Cas returns, drops his pillow, pulls back the blanket and slides right in, scooting close to Dean’s side.   
  
“Ready?” Dean grins at him, adjusting the laptop across their laps.  
  
“Ready,” Cas says firmly.  
  
The movie is great but after half-an-hour Dean finds his mind wandering, still exhausted from being on the road, and dozing off.   
  
Dean wakes up to someone snickering and the click of what sounds like an iPhone camera. He lifts his head from where it’s resting against Cas’ and notices two things first: his stiff neck, and the heavy weight of Cas against his shoulder.

They had fallen asleep with their heads together. Sitting up. In his bed. And Sam just took a fucking picture from the doorway and walked off.  
  
Dean groans and grabs his phone off his nightstand to check the time. It’s just after five in the morning so Sam is probably getting ready for his run.   
  
“Cas, man, wake up. You’re gonna kill your neck.” Dean pushes at Cas gently, rousing him from sleep.  
  
Cas sits up slowly and looks mildly embarrassed, in a shy way. “I’ll be alright. Are you?” Cas’ voice vibrates deep down into Dean’s stomach and he tries to focus on taking even breaths before he does something stupid like kiss Cas because he’s groggy and they’re doing that eye thing again and he just looks so soft...  
  
Cas is already close but he leans closer, brow furrowed. He rests a palm against the side of Dean’s neck and the coolness of grace massages out the kinks. It is weirdly intimate, at least to Dean, and he can feel a blush rising to his cheeks.  
  
“Uh, thanks, Cas.” Dean rubs his neck even though it feels better than it has in weeks.  
  
Cas smiles at him before he scoots off the bed and grabs his pillow. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep during our movie. I’ll go to my room to finish resting. Go back to sleep, Dean.”  
  
Dean wants to tell him to stay, more than anything, but his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Cas slips away, disappearing through the door and around the corner. Dean can hear the click of his door echo in the empty hallway.  
  
Dean is staring off into space when his phone vibrates in his hand. It's the picture Sam had taken, with a kiss-face emoji for the message. Dean stares at how relaxed they look, how comfortable. It'd be so easy to pretend that real life was like the picture, but Cas doesn't think of him as more than a mere human friend. Dean rolls his eyes at himself.  
  
As for Sam, he only teases because he doesn’t know anything, doesn’t know the truth, and doesn’t know how much the teasing from everyone kills Dean a little bit inside each time.  
  
Dean saves the photo and texts back, “You’re just jealous,” before he slides deep under his covers and tries to go back to sleep.  
  
Several hours later Dean groans to consciousness and rubs fingers through his bedhead. He just wants to stay in bed for another week. With a sigh he forces himself up, puts on his robe and shuffles to the kitchen. Cas is already there, looking completely refreshed, wearing an emerald green polo shirt with black jeans.

If he was living a Broadway musical, Dean would have clutched his chest and passed out from the sight. Green is definitely Cas’ color, making his eyes look oceanic and complimenting his dark hair.  
  
Dean is suddenly wide awake and alert from the sight, but his vocal chords are still untuned. He clears his throat and grabs a coffee mug. “You’re up early?”  
  
Cas chuckles. “It’s almost noon, Dean.” He spreads out Sam’s newspaper on the table, a slender finger trailing along the titles of articles until he finds one he’s interested in. Dean sits close to peer at it alongside him.  
  
“Anything interesting?” he asks, taking a hot sip and regretting it when it burns the roof of his mouth.  
  
“The comics are mediocre today. Otherwise, nothing in our local news as far as cases go.” Cas makes an excited noise at something that catches his eye and Dean instantly locks onto the ad that Cas is pointing at. “There’s a pottery class downtown.”  
  
“Pottery? Really?” Dean considers it a moment but all he can see is Swayze straddling Moore from behind, their fingers scraping through wet, smooth clay, both of them covered in the drying sediment as they part their lips for one intimate kiss after another. Somehow that vision changes in his mind to him and Cas and he shakes himself, glancing at Cas and hoping he can’t, or doesn’t, read minds.  
  
But Cas is still squinting at the ad in contemplation when he gets out his phone and starts typing something. Since Cas is distracted, Dean gets up to start some eggs because he’s ravenous and they’re quick.  
  
“Want eggs?” he asks, knowing Cas will decline. Cas grunts in the negative. “What’re you typing away about over there?”  
  
“I’m asking Lucas if he’s heard of this place. It would be a fun thing to learn to do, I think." Cas looks up from his phone and smiles brilliantly. "You know, God is likened to a potter and humans his clay. I wonder what joy is found in this craft. Angels weren’t made to create, only obey, but I think I’d like to learn new things.”  
  
“Wow, Cas, never heard you talk about this stuff before. But Lucas? Really? Why don’t I go with you?” Dean asks before he can talk himself out of it.

He can feel his heart hammering away in his chest at a pace that almost hurts. He wants Cas to choose him, not replace him. He has this panicked feeling that that is exactly what Cas is slowly, but surely, trying to do. Everybody always leaves, eventually.

  
“I didn’t think you’d be interested. I should have asked. Perhaps we can all go,” Cas says excitedly, or as excitedly as Cas gets. “It would be a great way for everyone to get to know one another better. He’s not just my friend.”  
  
Dean scoffs. “Ya sure about that, Cas? He asked for _your_ number, asked _you_ to dinner. If I didn’t know better-- no, never mind." Dean doesn't want to admit what is so fucking obvious because that just makes it more real. "I’m not sure your _friend_ is into being friends with me and Sam.”  
  
“Well I told him last night you are my family. Whether he accepts that or not doesn’t change my feelingd about you. I’ve already asked him about going to the pottery class, but I will mention it’s a group activity. If he can’t go then you and I can still go.”  
  
Dean silently wishes that Luc will decline as he roughly scrapes at the eggs in the pan. He can hear Cas texting again behind him and a verdict seems to be reached by the time he sits down with the food he no longer wants to eat.  
  
“He has work all week but can go this afternoon.” Sparkling blue eyes look up to him in question so Dean nods and shrugs in nonchalance. If he doesn’t go now then he knows Cas will go without him, with Luc instead.  
  
Dean gets dressed into an old ( _maybe a little snug_ ) band t-shirt and jeans, and they head out to meet Luc at the art studio. Dean feels a little nervous. No matter how many times they moved as a kid, every time he had to start a new school, he always got those ugly butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Going to this mini-class jump-starts those old feelings, or so he tells himself. Because there's no way he's nervous about seeing Luc and Cas interact with each other. No way... okay, maybe a little.  
  
Luc is waiting by the front door when they pull into the parking lot, lifting his hand in a friendly wave. Dean gives himself an internal pep talk. He will do his best to play nice and maybe he’ll actually have fun doing something with his hands that doesn’t involve killing or pleasuring someone.  
  
When they get out of the car they come around to the front of the car to walk together and notices Cas’ collar got jacked up in the ride.  
  
“Cas, c’mere a minute.” Cas turns to him and waits in the middle of the parking lot. And in full view of their new friend Dean steps up behind Cas, maybe a little closer than necessary, and touches the collar. Cas naturally tilts his chin down to give Dean room to fix it and Dean lets himself linger.  
  
“Good as new,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ bicep and they turn to meet with Luc at the door. Dean doesn’t miss the frown on Luc’s face and feels wickedly triumphant. Dean wants to tell him to move it along, that he’s been here with Cas from the start.

Luc is too good, though, because he doesn’t miss a beat. “Dean, Cas, how are you? I really love that shirt, Cas. The green looks amazing on you.”  
  
Shit, why didn't Dean compliment Cas earlier? Dean grouses, “Alright, guys, let’s go get dirty,” trying to not let the soft smile Cas gives Luc for the compliment affect him.  

Pottery ends up being less glamorous and sexy than Dean was picturing. The class starts with everyone sitting at a long table, Cas sandwiched between him and Luc. A few other random people surround them for a total of ten people. They begin with simple hand-formed pieces and learn about the properties of clay, scoring and using water as a kind of glue.  
  
There is little talk time because the instructor insists on meditative stillness as they work, putting on what she calls reiki music. It is actually weirdly calming and Dean finds himself relaxing into forming the clay even if it does end up looking like something a 6-year-old made.  
  
After almost an hour Dean ends up with a lopsided coffee mug that will probably leak, Cas’ looks like the teacher’s example and serviceable. But Luc has a fucking masterpiece with rolled clay winding up the sides to give the mug the appearance of being wrapped in rope. Dean wants to smash it with a fist.

“I like yours, Dean,” Cas whispers. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”  
  
When everyone is done she shows them the kiln and gives them a timeframe on when they can come back to glaze their pieces and finish them before they’re able to take them home. Dean didn’t realize this was going to be a more-than-one-visit kinda thing.  
  
She ends the class and Dean is confused. Where were the cool spinny things they get to throw clay on and sculpt at? Surely that has be easier than rolling out clay on a slab and forming it by hand.  
  
Cas reassures him they can come back for more lessons if he wants, that he only signed them up for a beginner class. When they get out to the parking lot Dean and Cas face Luc to finally get a word in. “I apologize that that didn’t allow much time for talking. I wanted you and Dean to get to know each other better, too.”  
  
Luc appears puzzled by that admission but doesn't address it. Dean is pretty sure Luc has come to the conclusion that he wants to get to know Dean just as much as Dean wants to get to know him, which is slim-to-nothing.  
  
Luc shuffles his feet, toeing at a piece of loose gravel that had found it’s way to the sidewalk in front of the studio. “Yeah, it’s okay, I had a lot of fun.”  
  
“Admit it, dude, you’ve taken a few pottery classes before. Your piece looked like a professional made it,” Dean accuses lightly and without malice, reminding himself that he is supposed to be playing nice with the guy.  
  
“Well, I may or may not know a bit about pottery," Luc admits with a laugh. "I don’t have my own setup for it at home but I have taken several courses. It's great to get a refresher. I’m serious, I really did have fun.”  
  
A weird tension hangs over them. Dean can see Cas working furiously in his mind to figure out what to say so Dean clears his throat and says, “You ready to go, Cas? I was gonna make pizza from scratch tonight if you wanna help.”  
  
“Yes, of course, Dean.” Cas makes like he’s going to turn to the car but Luc stops them.  
  
“Uh, wait a sec. This next weekend I have Grace. And my neighborhood is having a block party and bonfire. Would you like to come?” Luc asks, his grey eyes staring only at Cas.  
  
“Well, we can’t make any promises. Our work tends to be… spontaneous,” Cas says haltingly. “Text us the details?”

Dean can tell that Luc is only interested in inviting Cas, but Cas isn't getting the hint, and Luc is too nice to correct him. “Of-- of course, you’re all welcome to come. Grace will be really excited to meet you. I mean, all of you.” Luc gives Dean a tight smile. “Grace is my daughter,” Luc explains.  
  
Dean groans internally but smiles. _Kids complicate things. Kids get hurt._ And if he can't convince Cas to not go, Dean is going to have to spend an evening as a civilian. With Luc. With Luc and Cas interacting yet again. Great. Wonderful.  
  
“See you later, Lucas,” Cas says raising his hand in farewell, turning back to the car. Luc looks like he wants to reach out to Cas or say something else but he stops himself.  
  
Dean smugly follows, catching up to Cas in quick strides, clapping him on the back to say something close to his ear. He realizes he’s being an overprotective bastard, demonstratively showing his claim and where Cas’ loyalties lie. But, well, he can't fucking help it.

“I think that shade of green on you is my favorite,” he says, his voice low and husky from the brisk walk. Cas turns his head sharply, his steps faltering a second, but he recovers and smiles tenderly. Dean wonders why he hesitates to say anything nice at all when he’s rewarded with a reaction like this. He needs to make a better effort to use his words.


	4. ~ Cas ~

Dean took them on another hunt the day after pottery class. The hunter had been up early again, eager to get out the door quickly. The case was pretty straightforward, but the vengeful spirit licked the brothers really good, and neither would allow Cas to heal their bruising faces.  
  
“Save your mojo for shit that matters, Cas. Bruises heal,” Dean had said, with Sam nodding tiredly in agreement beside him. Cas relented but he didn’t like it.  
  
During the trip, Lucas kept up a texting conversation with him. He began to ask Cas a lot of questions that he had to really think about. Like his favorite color, favorite song. It became a sort of tradition every morning, before they started their day, to put one question out there that they both answered. It often led to a deeper discussion about philosophy, music, art, history.  
  
Cas has to be mindful of sticking to history as the world-at-large understands it but Lucas is a deep thinker and has so many questions, is extremely curious. It becomes tempting to cross the line a little.  
  
This morning, Lucas introduces an interesting topic that leaves Cas conflicted. He tries to answer honestly, as he waits for Dean and Sam to finish packing, and hopes Lucas doesn’t ask for deeper discussion.  
  
  
_[Luc <3]_  
_QOTD: Do u believe in ghosts?_  
  
_[Cas]_  
_Do I believe in them? No._  
  
_[Luc <3]_  
_LOL - ok let me rephrase. Do u think they exist?_  
  
_[Cas]_  
_Why do you ask?_  
  
_[Luc <3]_  
_Curious what u believe :-)_  
  
_[Cas]_  
_I do believe that ghosts exist. Do you?_  
  
_[Luc <3]_  
_Not sure but leaning toward no. Seems so abstract._ **  
****  
****  
**“Cas, you ready to hit the road?” Dean asks, coming out of the motel bathroom with his bag of toiletries. Cas grits his teeth at the purple, swollen cheekbone and split lip marring Dean’s handsome face.  
  
“Yes, I’m ready. Sam?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam speaks up, stretching and cracking his back. “I mean it, Dean. These hunts need to be spread out a little more. And you’re putting a lot of mileage and wear on Baby when we could be sticking to cases closer to home. We have hunters in every region that we can send to do shit like this, especially this far out.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah, heard you the first hundred times,” Dean grumbles. He appears to be tired and moody today, when he’s usually a lot happier when a hunt is done. Cas looks to Sam who looks back and he hopes that Sam understands the silent message he wants to convey.  
  
He does. Sam clears his throat and tries to speak casually. “I wanna drive, is that cool? You drove the whole way here, man.”  
  
Dean studies his brother a moment and tosses over the keys. “Sure, whatever. Don’t speed, don’t ride the brakes.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes. “Yes, sir.”  
  
They hit the road, get to the bunker before midnight and turn in to sleep for several hours longer than Dean’s typical four hours. Even Cas lays down to give his body time to rest. Cas rises the next day and wants to make Dean feel better, both physically and emotionally, whatever it is that Dean needs. He knows the best way to boost his mood is through his stomach.  
  
Cas goes to the kitchen and pulls out his phone, looking up a recipe for breakfast turnovers. They’re like pies but for breakfast. The recipe he finds is complicated and he doesn’t have half of the ingredients. He’ll just have to go to the store or maybe a bakery.  
  
When he gets back with coffees and a box of fruit-filled pastries, Dean is just coming out of his room frowning, his hair sticking out all over the place.

“Good morning, Dean. I got you breakfast.” Dean perks up but only grunts his appreciation.  
  
Once he has half his coffee down Dean smiles at Cas. “Thanks. You’re my friggin’ hero.” Dean winks and Cas feels a familiar flutter in his chest that always seems to happen when Dean is in one of his playful moods.  
  
“You’re welcome. We should glaze our pottery pieces today, if you want. They have to be fired again and then we should be able to bring them home.” Cas likes the way it feels to use the word ‘home’ so comfortably and Dean doesn’t appear to find his use of the sentiment strange.  
  
Dean finishes off his coffee and brushes crumbs from his fingers. “Yeah, sure. Will, uh, Luc be there?”  
  
“No, I believe he is working.” Cas frowns. He did not think about glazing with Luc, but they did all go together at first. “Should we wait?”  
  
“Nope, no time like the present, man,” Dean says quickly. “I’m gonna grab a shower and then we can head out.” Dean looks down at Cas’ legs. “I really like those jeans, by the way.”  
  
“You all seem to be very pleased with my clothing,” Cas says curiously. He didn’t realize how much humans would appreciate what someone else chose to use to cover their body, in this case himself.  
  
Dean shrugs and smiles, giving him no further information, so Cas is left to ponder the different eras of clothing choices, and how they have evolved with time. Some cultures were extremely modest whereas others barely used any coverings at all. It is peculiar how humans can vary and that one species can have so many differences. But that is one of many reasons he loves humanity: the diversity.  
  
Dean comes back to the kitchen twenty minutes later, smelling of his soap, wearing jeans and the black t-shirt he usually wears when he works on his car. It hugs him tightly and shows off his arms and Cas finds he’s a little disappointed when Dean shrugs on the purple-and-pink flannel he had been holding in his hand.  
  
“You may want your sunglasses, Dean,” Cas says quietly, looking over the bruises again.  
  
“Yeah, they’re in the glove box. You ready to vamoose? Hey, maybe we can grab lunch at that railway car restaurant. Cas,” Dean says with awe, “it’s a restaurant made from a train car.”  
  
Cas laughs at his childlike wonder. “You just ate and you’re already planning the next meal.”  
  
Dean pats his stomach. “Hey, I’m easy to please. Food and sex and some good tv, right?” Dean turns to lead the way to the garage and Cas considers those words.  
  
He knew about the food and is pleased to find Dean’s mood has improved with Cas’ impromptu breakfast. And the other night when he came home for movie night Dean had been upset but again his mood improved. So Cas has two for three: food and television.  
  
He isn’t sure Dean would let him try to please him sexually but Cas is not opposed. After the disaster of his time with April, he knows he doesn’t want to do that again unless he trusts the person. And there is no one that he trusts more than Dean.  
  
They get to the studio only to find a sign on the door stating that there is a class in session. They’ll need to come during the open studio time, when there isn’t a class scheduled, which is in about forty minutes.  
  
“Do you want to go to the coffeehouse then, Cas? Or walk around or something? I don’t really want to drive all the way to the bunker and come back.” They begin walking down the main street in the town just outside of Lebanon.  
  
Cas raises a brow at this hypocritical declaration. “But you’ll drive eight or more hours for a case that might turn out to be nothing?”  
  
Dean harrumphs. “You talk to Sam too much. And yeah, I would. There’s a difference between driving out to potentially save lives, and wasting gas to drive home only to turn right back around.”  
  
“I am simply giving you a hard time, as you call it. You are a good man, Dean. You will go out of your way for complete strangers and that’s admirable.”

Cas watches Dean discolor a bit, cheeks pink, and he mumbles something to dismiss the compliment. Cas can’t see his green-gold eyes behind the sunglasses but he knows the words strike a chord. The man needs to believe in himself more.  
  
After they get some coffees they continue walking and talking outside. “Let’s go over there,” Cas says, spying a shaded park about two blocks away. They sit on a park bench under the shade of a weeping willow.  
  
Cas is content to watch the children run and play. There are some mothers chasing toddling babies, some swiping at their phones, there’s a dad talking on his phone while he absently rolls a stroller back and forth, and a few joggers on the path beyond. It’s a beautiful autumn day and he’s glad they have a moment to get out of the car, out of motels, out of the dark bunker.  
  
Cas can feel eyes on him so he looks at Dean. “What are you thinking about, Dean?”  
  
“Hmm, I’m thinking about what color to paint my fugly mug,” Dean says but Cas gets the impression that he made it up quickly and it wasn’t what Dean was actually thinking about. He isn’t sure how Dean would figure out what color to use just by looking at Cas’ face.  
  
“Fugly,” Cas tries the word. “Such an odd curse word.”  
  
Dean snorts in amusement. “It’s better than assbutt. Where the hell did you even come up with that? No one says that.”  
  
“The ass of an ass is the ultimate insult, naturally,” Cas says plainly, taking a hot sip, enjoying the sensation of it burning down his throat.

“Wow,” Dean laughs. “You just got Biblical.”  
  
“Is that so surprising? I am an angel, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah, speaking of angels…” Dean’s voice trails off and he looks off to the distance. Cas can see Dean squint his eyes through the side of his sunglasses. “How you feelin’, man? Your mojo okay?”  
  
Cas shifts on the bench and sits up straighter. He doesn’t like to appear weak. He is the size of the Chrysler building, damn it. Without power, Dean likens him to a mere child, meek and powerless. He frowns and refuses to look at Dean.

“My grace is sufficient, Dean.”  
  
“Sufficient?” Dean wrinkles his nose, returning his gaze to Cas, most likely to gauge Cas’ response. “Is that code for ‘I still have some but it’s slowly leaking out of me like a punctured tire’?”  
  
Cas doesn’t like being called names. He’s been called a giraffe, a fish and even ‘Feathers’ so he especially doesn’t like to be likened to a broken, useless tire.

“You have a way with words that is quite aggravating at times. No, I’m not a leaky tire. I-- I am fine.”  
  
“I’m calling bullshit.” Dean sighs and puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I know I’ve said stupid shit in the past. Whether you have all the power, or none of the power, you’re still important to us. To me. You’re not weak, Cas, and even if you were... your powers aren't why we want you to stick around.”  
  
Cas looks down at his cup and it swims and blurs in his vision. He blinks quickly and looks away, the feel of Dean’s hand slipping off his shoulder slowly, brushing down his arm. Dean pulls himself and his longing back into himself.  
  
“Let’s go glaze some crap, huh?” Dean asks gruffly, standing up and clearly done with the emotional moment. Cas follows behind and wonders at the things Dean has said. Dean has changed. There was once a time when Dean believed supernatural creatures were beneath him, even Cas as an angel, someone the brothers wanted to have at their beck-and-call to help solve their problems.  
  
It’s not to say the brothers are bad for having done that. They were raised to believe in a cut-and-dry, black-and-white world, where humans were good and everything else was evil.

What is important is that they have readjusted their way of thinking. They neither see Cas as above or below them anymore. He is their equal, regardless of race or power. Cas can’t describe how he feels to hear Dean’s affirmations regarding Cas’ largest insecurity but _liberated_ may be an adequate descriptor.   
  
After reassuring the studio teacher that Dean’s face is bruised because he’s a professional fighter, they sit quietly in the studio, side-by-side, to apply the glaze to their work. Dean paints his a rich emerald green with a crackle-effect and Cas paints his white and then does a bright blue smoke effect over it.

Once again the teacher puts on the soothing meditative music. They leave their creations to be fired again and then they’ll be able to pick them up, take them home and actually use them.  
  
“Do you still want to eat at the train car?” Cas asks when they step back out into the sun.  
  
Dean slides his sunglasses back on, partially covering his swollen cheekbone, and gets out the chapstick in his pocket to moisten his lips in order to keep the tender, broken flesh from splitting open more. Cas looks away and squints at a car passing by in front of the studio.  
  
“Hell yeah. Come on, it’s this way. We can just walk since it’s so nice out.” Dean starts off in the direction they need to go and Cas falls into step beside him. Dean is surprisingly relaxed and walking leisurely, seemingly enjoying this time. Cas is enjoying it, too. It isn’t often they spend time together like this.  
  
The kitchen of the restaurant is actually in a squat, brick building. The dining area is made from a decommissioned train car and connected to the kitchen building. They get a small two-person booth in the narrow diner.

“What should I order, Dean? You know I won’t eat it.”  
  
Dean grins at him and holds up his laminated, double-sided, one-page menu. “Well, you know a burger is a must-have so I’ll get that.” Dean looks over the varying items and something catches his eye. “Aha, get the ravioli.”  
  
They spend a wonderful lunch tucked away in the packed railcar, Dean regaling him with story after story of different stunts he tried to pull as a kid, always being careful to not cross the line into talking about the aftermath when he’d get caught and in trouble. Dean takes his time on his burger, stealing a ravioli from Cas’ plate every few bites.  
  
“Man, I wish you could taste these. Do you ever miss it?” Dean asks around a mouthful, a blob of marinara at the corner of his lips that Cas hones in on.  
  
He silently passes Dean a napkin and firmly plants his gaze on Dean’s verdant eyes instead of his mouth. “Of course. Being human is messy and chaotic but the small pleasures, like enjoying food, were highly gratifying.”  
  
Dean nods as he licks his teeth with his tongue, finished with his meal. “Well, I suppose we should get back to the bunker. It’s probably pointless for me to ask if you’re still wanting to go to this party thing at Luc’s tonight, huh?”  
  
“I do not look forward to a crowd but he seems to be eager for us to attend. It would be an interesting observance of human behavior. I believe he mentioned a fire as well.”  
  
Dean grins at him, split lip and all. “Yeah, leave it to you to turn this into some freaky observational science experiment.”


	5. ~ Lucas ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm alternating POVs: Dean, Cas, Dean, Cas, Lucas, Lucas; repeat. So the next two chapters are going to take you through what Lucas is experiencing, how he views Cas and how he views Dean. <3

“So where did you meet this guy?”   
  
“The hardware store, of all places. I saw this man walking up the aisle toward me, looking down at his list so at first all I could see was this head of sexy, dark hair. When he looked up he pierced me with the most amazing blue eyes. He just has this presence and power about him, I can’t explain it.”   
  
“Why does none of that not surprise me? You do tend to have a type. Tall, dark, handsome, powerful. Check, check, check and a check.”   
  
Luc chuckles and adjusts the phone against his ear. “He’s really secretive about his job, probably something to do with secret service or CIA.”   
  
“You should ask him about Area 51.” Gabbie screeches and Luc winces. “Oh my gosh, I bet it’s real and I bet he’ll tell you.”   
  
“Did you miss the part where I mentioned he is ‘secretive’? He really doesn’t tell me much about work but he is just so, I don’t know, deep. He seems to know a lot about the things I’m interested in.”   
  
“So you have a lot in common?    
  
“He doesn’t seem to have seen many movies but we can fix that. But as far as art and philosophy go? Be still, my beating heart. And poetry! He really loves books and foreign language. When he’s not working he translates ancient texts to English. I mean, who does that?”   
  
“Seriously, that’s awesome. He sounds really smart. You went on the one date, right? Are you official?”   
  
“Uh, no, we haven’t really talked about that. I did mention Grace right off the bat on our date, though. I didn’t want to get in deep if having a child would be a problem but he was so damn receptive of her. He practically swooned over her picture, as much as the guy can. He’s actually pretty serious with an almost constant pinched brow.”   
  
Gabbie sighs. “Like Mr. Darcy?”   
  
“Are you calling me Elizabeth Bennett?”    
  
A tinkling laugh comes through the receiver. “Well, maybe you can be the one to wipe the scowl off his face and make him happy.”   
  
“I’d really like to be. It’s kind of funny because his work doesn’t really seem to line up with his gentle and introspective personality, from what little I know. I get the feeling he’s seen a lot of horror.”   
  
“Doesn’t that worry you then? That sounds like heavy baggage.”   
  
“We all have baggage. And I’m really interested in finding out what his is before I make any final or long-term decisions.”   
  
“You’re always so practical. Make sure you introduce me to your man tonight.”   
  
“He’s not my man, not yet. But I will definitely make sure you meet him. He’s coming with his co-workers. You may be interested in one of the two. I don’t think either of them are in relationships and they’re not bad looking.”   
  
“Why’re his colleagues coming? I mean, don’t get me wrong, the more single and available men the better, but that just seems odd.”   
  
“I think that was my fault. He misunderstood me. One of them was standing there when I asked, ‘Would you like to come,’ and I think Cas took it as plural. Regardless, I think he might feel more comfortable with familiar faces than being thrown at so many new people at once.”   
  
“You’re so considerate. Once he gets over the shock of all of us awesome people he’ll wonder why he ever worried.”   
  
Luc chortled. “I have to go get ready. I’m bringing a pot of my chili and haven’t even started yet.”   
  
“Alright, Sweetie, see you tonight. Bye.”   
  
Luc hangs up and starts chopping onion and garlic. He needs to get the chili started before his ex-girlfriend drops Grace off for the weekend.   
  
He’s extremely nervous about Cas coming to his house, meeting his daughter, and just the whole night in general. He wasn’t exaggerating when he told Gabbie all the merits of this man, and he can’t wait to learn more about him.    
  
When he first laid eyes on Cas he felt like the very air was sucked from his lungs. He was mesmerized. He knows it’s so stupid, so incredibly corny, which is why he keeps that little tidbit to himself. He had stopped the man before he could talk himself out of it.   
  
He barely got more than the guy’s name and explained his paint-covered clothes when Luc noticed a rugged guy coming down the aisle toward them. He assumed he was just another random shopper who would pass right by so he didn’t pay him a second glance until he noticed Cas was locked onto him.   
  
“Do you know him?” Luc had asked.   
  
Cas had squinted, watching Luc, and seemed to weigh his response. “Yes, that’s my, um, partner.”    
  
“Partner? As in boyfriend?” Luc had felt his heart sink, feeling stalled at the gate.   
  
“Boyfriend? No, ‘part-ners’, as in professionally. We work together.”   
  
Luc heaved a sigh of relief, even if the flannel-clad guy stopped and stood really close to Cas, obviously comfortable and familiar. 

He didn't want to snoop but his eyes took in their items because they were just there in the open. Why were they buying nails and a dozen cans of spray paint? Crowbars, rope, chains and flashlights?  
  
Luc is far too trusting but he also feels he’s a good judge of character. It was an odd sight to behold but none of them seemed out of the ordinary or sketchy, like serial killers. They were… normal. 

He determined right there to ask Castiel out but instead he got invited to go out with the three men right on the spot. At that point Luc’s only other question was whether or not the guy was interested in men. Cas had to at least be interested to eagerly include him, he hoped.

It wasn’t a date but it would be a great way to at least see if there was mutual interest. Plus making new friends was always nice. Sam was genial if a little aloof, but Dean appeared distrustful of him, especially when he asked Cas to ride with him to the bar.   
  
After the other men had left the paint aisle he felt he could relax a little more and asked Cas his opinion on a paint color, giving them some alone time to talk before they met up at a noisy, dirty bar. Bars aren’t really his thing but Luc wasn’t about to miss this chance.   
  
Not surprisingly Cas had chosen a light purple. Purple is associated with mystery, creativity, power, magic and wisdom, the softer shade of purple alluding to a gentle spirit. It definitely fit the bill from what he could surmise from the stranger so far. Luc had the paint mixed up.   
  
Cas was quiet and took a great deal of time with answering all of Luc’s questions. He seemed to prefer quiet solitude but was pleasant. He could listen to his deep baritone all night long if Cas opened up and talked enough.   
  
Cas seemed to become more animated once they got to the bar and he was with his friends again. It became clear to Luc that Dean was the one he needed to win over if he wanted to snag a date with Cas. He knows how people are. If your BFF warns you to not date someone before you’ve barely passed the ‘How do you do’s’ then he’d never get a chance.   
  
Pool went better than expected. He was still getting to know these people but it was so hard to keep his hands to himself when Cas stood close, especially after a few glasses of beer. And God, did he stand close. They each did a round of darts and Luc felt way out of his element. Each of the other three guys were close to bullseye almost each throw.    
  
Overall it was a great night, even if he stayed out way too late when he had an early shift. He had gotten Cas’ number and hoped it wasn’t a fake one. Cas didn’t seem the type so when he texted and Cas responded he felt great relief. Luc went through the next day with a tired smile as he wheeled elderly residents around and made sure they were comfortable.   
  
The night after the bar he tried calling Cas as he had promised but it went to voicemail. Cas’ voicemail prompt was really, really odd but it made Luc chuckle. He knew he’d have to ask him about it sometime. 

When hours had passed and he heard nothing Luc’s mood plummeted and he tried to talk himself into not feeling rejected until a text finally came through really late.   
  


**[Cas]**

**Hi Lucas. We were called to a case.** **  
** **  
**

The “case” had turned into a month long ordeal and Luc began to wonder if maybe the guy was too nice and this was his way of saying he wasn’t interested. But Cas kept texting him back, sometimes almost right away, other times it would be hours.

So when Cas said he was  _ finally  _ home Luc immediately jumped at the chance to see if he wanted to go to dinner.   
  
Luc mentally kicked himself for asking over a stupid text message but it’s the modern thing to do, right? And Cas didn’t seem to care. In fact, stupid little insignificant stuff doesn’t really seem to bother him at all.   
  
Luc had wanted to pick him up and go the full nine but he had a feeling that less would be more with Cas, which was actually perfect for him. He's a casual kinda guy. They met at the bistro which was nice, but not too fancy, choosing the outdoors for a quieter, more romantic ambiance.    
  
He had gotten there first so he was able to watch as Cas casually walked up the block, each step he took tripping up Luc’s heart. He’s breathtaking. Luc had stood when Cas reached him and held out his arms in greeting. He was going to feel so stupid if Cas wasn’t into it but Cas only hesitated a moment before giving him a quick hug.    
  
The date went well except that Cas didn’t seem to want the night to go any further. Not that Luc was interested in going anywhere near intimate, but a walk or just continuing to talk at the table would have been nice. He had to remind himself that Cas had gotten home just that day and was probably exhausted. Nevertheless, it was an abrupt end and it stung.    
  
Luc had the next day off and his thoughts kept worrying that he might’ve said or done something to scare Cas away when Cas texted him about going to a pottery class. Luc was only able to go if they went that afternoon. He was a little disappointed Cas had Dean come along but it was a chance to see Cas and he wasn't going to miss it.   
  
And oh, this Dean guy. Luc had noticed how closed-off he was at the bar but it changed to Dean becoming intent on intimidating him. Cas did say he was the reason for all the cases in their bizarre month-long run. All the pieces began to click into place.   
  
Dean fixing Cas’ collar like it was a normal, everyday comfort. Sitting close, standing close. And yet they weren’t together and Cas wasn’t giving Luc the boot. Cas had invited  _ him _ to this class the day after they had a date. 

When the pottery class was over and the other men were walking off, Dean leaning in close to whisper something to Cas, and Cas’ response… Lucas took it all in stride. Dean was just a good friend who wanted to protect his friend by posturing. That was it, it had to be.   
  
Cas left on another case after that but ended up making it home in time to be available for tonight. Luc hopes that Cas had finished it early just because he wanted to be back, to come and meet his daughter, his neighbors and friends.   
  
His doorbell chimes just as he dumps the spices in the pot and lids it.   
  
“Gracie-bean!” he says, throwing open the door.   
  
“Hi, Daddy. Yook, I made you a pic-tur.” He bends down to pull her into a hug and gives her a big wet kiss on her cheek.   
  
“It’s beautiful. Why don’t you go pin it to the fridge?” Luc looks up to his ex and takes Grace’s backpack. Grace has her own room and her own things in his small 2-bedroom house but she likes to bring her favorite toys and her lovey between her parents’ homes.   
  
“Looks like the party is starting up soon. Don’t let her have a crap ton of sugar, Lucas.”   
  
“I’m going to load her up on so many smore’s they’ll start popping outta her ears,” he teases loudly and to his delight Grace giggles from the other room.   
  
Rachel rolls her eyes but leans forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Come give your momma some sugar, Bean,” Rachel calls. She and Luc get along but she never steps foot in his house. Grace bounds back through the living to the open front door.    
  
“Bye, momma.”   
  
“See you Sunday. Have a fun weekend.”    
  
Luc reaches down and lifts Grace up onto his shoulders. “Why don’t we go check on the chili and then we can find a movie and color some more pictures. Whaddya say?”   
  
She picks out The Little Mermaid, the only movie she seems to care to watch, and they spend the late afternoon trying to kill time before Cas shows up. Luc keeps looking at the clock but time is dragging. Once the movie is over, and he’s drawn Grace three mermaids, the doorbell rings again. He feels his heart drop into his knees.   
  
“Grace, I have some friends coming along tonight. I want you to meet my friend, Cas, okay?”   
  
Grace shrugs and races for the door but she’s only four and can’t reach the deadbolt. Luc takes a deep breath and unlocks it. It’s Sam who rang, Cas and Dean on the walkway behind him talking or maybe arguing.    
  
“Sam, good to see you- holy sh- what happened to your face?” Luc says, recovering quickly.    
  
“It’s an unfortunate side effect of the job from time-to-time. Dean’s got a shiner, too. Cas is fine,” Sam says, tucking his hands in his jacket.   
  
Luc swallows down a response to that and is about to introduce Grace but she runs outside and right up to Cas, like she knew which of the men was him. His heart does several flips when Cas turns to look down at her insistent tugging on his dark blue Henley. He lowers himself to a knee and smiles sweetly at her.    
  
Luc steps over and hears Grace whisper, “Wow,” and he can’t help but know exactly how she feels. She reaches up her little hands and places them on Cas’ cheeks but he doesn’t try to move away and just lets her look him over. Cas is still kneeling so Luc doesn’t shake his hand or try a hug this time even though he wants to.  
  
“Grace, this is Cas. Cas, this is my daughter Grace. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were secretly Santa Claus the way she’s gravitated toward you.”   
  
“Nice to meet you, Grace. I assure you I am not St. Nicholas. He was-- well, never mind.” Cas stops talking when Dean clears his throat loudly before he can say whatever he was about to say about the saint.   
  
“Dean, glad you’re here. Sorry about your, uh, injury.” They shake hands and Dean shrugs, eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses but the bruise extends from cheekbone to jaw on the left side of his face.    
  
Luc gestures down the dead-end street. “So, everything is set up on the land back there. I’m just going to grab the chili I made and lock up. Grace, can you stay with Cas, please?”    
  
“I can help carry,” Sam offers, following Luc into the house.    
  
“Yeah, if you can grab these folding chairs, that’d be great. Can I ask you something? Can-- can you tell me something about Cas?”

“Cas? Well, Cas is… out of this world. Hard to nail everything there is to him down to an easy definition.” 

“No, not a question about anything like that. Him and your brother? I think I misread the situation.”    


“My brother is an idiot,” Sam says, to Luc’s surprise. “I love him so I’m allowed to say it.”

Luc mulls that over to determine exactly what Sam is trying to say by such a loaded statement. Is Dean an idiot because Cas is in love with him and he rejects it, or vice versa? “Do you think I stand a chance?” 

“I don't.” Sam presses his lips together into a sad smile. Sad smile: such an oxymoron. But at least Sam is honest. Honesty doesn’t always mean someone is right though.

Luc thinks it might be worth fighting for, to pursue Cas. “Okay, but that doesn't mean I won't try.”   
  
“I didn't say you shouldn't but I'd prefer to stay out of it. They're my brothers and I want each of them to be happy. Cas is a, uh, wise old soul so I’m sure he can figure out what he wants. He deserves to make his own choices.”   
  
“I understand,” Luc says. He won’t try to put Sam in the middle and Sam won’t try to influence anything.


	6. ~ Lucas ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of Lucas' POV. You won't see a lot of jealous Dean because Lucas isn't paying that close attention to Dean. *shrug* But believe me, Dean IS paying attention and he isn't a happy camper. Next chapter will be angsty Dean.

Luc grabs his keys and the pot of food, walking out to find Grace swinging between Cas and Dean, each of them holding one of her hands. They all turn to Luc when Sam pulls the door pulls shut, locking it for Luc since his hands are full.  
  
“Why don’t I carry that?” Cas asks. Luc is so touched. He doesn’t want to inconvenience him but Cas is already reaching for it and taking it like it weighs nothing. Dean is still holding onto Grace’s hand so Luc reaches down to her to scoop her up and away from him, falling into step next to Cas.   
  
Luc’s house is the second-to-last on the dead-end street and they begin walking to the clearing where houses have yet to be built and developed, still green and treed along the edges.   
  
“I’d love you to meet some of my friends. This neighborhood is really great. Everyone gets along and we usually have a get-together once a month.”   
  
“That must be nice,” Cas says. “We don’t normally attend functions like this.” Luc grits his teeth. Again with the ‘we’. When does Cas ever do anything for himself? He doesn’t feel comfortable yet to say anything about it so he stays quiet and listens to the brothers behind him.   
  
“Here ya go, Sammy. Welcome to suburbia.” Dean's tone is sarcastic.   
  
“Ugh, Dean, you act like I’ve never gone anywhere. I lived with Amelia for almost a year, remember? And Stanford?”   
  
“I’m just sayin’. You were _just_ talking about friendly little neighborhood BBQs and then one drops on your lap. You find a lucky rabbit foot again?”   
  
“God, no. If we ever run across one of those again we burn it instantly. In fact, any time I find _any_ rabbit foot it gets torched.”   
  
“Amen to that. Do you remember the expression on Bela's face when I tossed it to her?”   
  
“I remember the expression on your face when she stole all of your lotto tickets.” Sam laughs heartily.   
  
“Yeah, well," Dean hesitates, struggling for a comeback. "I also remember the expression on all our faces when she shot you,” Dean snaps back.  
  
From beside him Cas looks over his shoulder. “Dean,” he says in a warning tone. Nothing more is said and Luc shivers at the commanding voice that shut the two men up behind him. He had thought Cas was maybe under their thumbs but now he wonders if he ever was at all.

And then he shivers again because they were casually talking about getting shot like it’s as normal as raking up leaves in the yard. They must be joking. They can’t literally mean Sam was shot with a gun.  
  
He doesn’t want to talk about that in front of Grace, though, so he doesn’t ask. They reach the big white tent that was set up to cover several picnic tables, with another really long table for food running along the west side. About two dozen adults mill about with almost double the amount of children running around in the open grass and between tables.   
  
“Oh my gosh, Lucas!” Gabbie comes rushing over from one of the tables, her black braid swinging behind her. She’s wearing jeans and a hoodie and Luc briefly worries that he should have grabbed Grace’s sweater. He’ll have to go back for it. “Introduce me to your friends. You didn’t tell me how devilishly handsome they _all_ are.”   
  
Introductions are made, Gabbie letting her hand linger in Dean’s longer than necessary. Dean seems interested enough, smiling at her a little too friendly. She grabs the pot of chili from Cas to deposit on the banquet table and encourages the brothers to follow her to make up their plates of food, leaving Luc and Cas alone.   
  
A few other neighbors come over to meet Cas, one of the mothers stealing Grace away so she can play with the other kids. Before Luc can ask Cas if he wants to grab something to eat Dean is back and handing Cas a plate with a single cheeseburger.   
  
“You’re not going to eat anything else with that?” Luc asks him. Why would Dean bring him hardly anything to eat?   
  
Dean peers at Cas’ burger and around a biteful of food says, “You want ketchup? I forgot ketchup.” He snatches the plate back from Cas and goes to add the condiment.   
  
“I did not realize there was going to be food here. I don’t mean to be impolite,” Cas says. “I already ate. Dean, however, will eat half of what you have here if you let him.”   
  
“Yeah, I kinda got that impression," Luc says dryly. Time to change the subject. "So hey, they’re setting up some games out in the field so if you want to play anything… I think there’ll be football and even a Muscle Man Competition.”   
  
“Muscle Man Competition?” Cas asks when Dean returns, taking the proffered plate back.   
  
“What’s that?” Dean asks, still chewing.   
  
“It’s kind of like sparring or wrestling, with a few different rules,” Luc starts to explain.   
  
“I’m in,” Dean cuts in, taking another bite of food. “I’m gonna go sit down. Where the hell is Sam?” Dean wanders off to find his brother, fitting in and making himself at home. Apparently he just needs some good company and a whole lot of food to have a good time.   
  
“I remembered you had said you’d teach me to fight. Tonight might seem like as good an opportunity as any?” Luc says. Honestly he just wants the excuse to see Cas’ moves, to have a chance to touch him. He doesn’t otherwise seem like the touchy-feely, physically affectionate type.  
  
But Cas looks uncertain. “I am not sure how efficient it would be in this setting but we can try.”   
  
“Okay cool. Why don’t you go sit down and save me a seat. I’m gonna check on Grace and make sure she gets dinner.”   
  
When he reaches the huddle of children and women on the other side of the tent an excited whisper rises.  
  
One woman chirps, “You didn’t tell us just how handsome he is, Lucas.”   
  
“His friends aren’t so bad either. But that Cas sure is something else,” says another.   
  
Luc laughs and holds up a hand. “Ladies, please. Nothing is going on, not officially. I am not entirely sure he’s interested.”   
  
Gabbie puts her hands on her hips. “Well he has to be. Why else would he be here for a function like this? I mean, no offense, but bachelors who don't live here wouldn't be interested otherwise. Give it time, you’ll see.”   
  
“Alright, well, I wanted to get Grace set up with dinner but I see she’s already got a plate." He gets his daughter's attention. "Grace, I’m going to be right over there if you need me, Pumpkin. Okay?”   
  
“Yes, Daddy! Me and Logan are gone play after.”   
  
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on her so you can focus on your guest,” his neighbor Charlotte says, with a wink.  
  
Luc rejoins the trio of men. They’ve found themselves smack dab in the middle of the tent, surrounded by curious people. Cas seems to be smiling and enjoying himself as he watches everyone and soaks it all in.

A few kids start darting around the table and pause to tap Cas on the shoulder. He turns to smile at them, unperturbed by the interruptions, even when the kids run off and keep doing it again and again. Ever patient, ever kind.  
  
Nosy neighbors begin peppering the newcomers with questions. The inquiries about work and family are the only thing that seem to make Cas tense. The brothers handle it with smooth, practiced charm but he can tell that their personal life is something they want to remain shadowed and private.   
  
A swift murmur makes it’s way across the tent and Luc looks up to see his brand new neighbors, the Parkers, shyly ducking into the tent while hugging a pie.   
  
“Is that pie?” Dean asks, perking up.   
  
“Yeah, and that’s Sadie and Roger. They just moved in next to me, that last house there.” Luc turns to Cas. “Remember when I asked you if you believed in ghosts? They think their house is haunted. It’s been vacant since I moved in just over a year ago.”   
  
“Haunted how exactly?” Sam asks with poorly concealed interest.   
  
Luc shrugs. “At the last neighborhood meeting they came in wide-eyed and spooked. They started asking these strange questions, to feel out if anyone was having the same issues.”   
  
“What issues?” Dean asks seriously.   
  
“Drafts, their electricity cuts in and out.”   
  
“Rodent problem? Scurrying in the walls and shit?” Dean asks, still serious, and Luc can’t tell if he’s trying to pull his leg or not, because they were definitely having an issue with noises as well. He nods and the three men share a look that Luc can’t decipher.   
  
Just then, Bill, Luc’s neighbor from across the street, whistles loud enough to make ears bleed and everyone quiets.

“‘Kay, y’all, we’re gonna start with a little strength comp’tition and get the tension of the week out. Women over there,” he says pointing toward a red flag poking up from the soil in the near distance, “and men there.” He indicates the blue flag a way’s away from the red.   
  
Dean claps his hands and rubs them together. “I’m gonna kick ass and take some names. You with me, Sam? Cas?” He takes his sunglasses off and sets them on the table. The swollen cheekbone is jarring but Dean keeps on smiling. Cold dread settles in around Luc and he hopes Cas has never been so beat up before.   
  
“Dude, you just ate your weight’s worth of food,” Sam says, his bruises smaller.“You just made yourself an easy target so, hell yeah, I’m in.”   
  
The men get up and head for the blue flag, a few of Luc’s neighbors joining in around them.   
  
“I’ve never actually participated in anything like this,” Luc says nervously.   
  
“You look strong. You would have to be in your work, carrying and lifting all day.” Cas smiles at him. There’s no sarcasm or teasing in his words, just genuine reflection.   
  
“Aw, Cas, why don’t we show him how it’s done then? Before the party really gets started?” Dean walks a little bit further than the event’s marked perimeter and turns.   
  
Cas doesn’t hesitate to join Dean. Both of them face-off and instead of exploding into grappling and fighting in quick successive movements, they move slow like a choreographed dance while Cas explains the moves. It is so well done Luc is convinced they must have rehearsed.   
  
“Too bad we didn’t have some blades,” Dean pants after blocking an arm that Cas had brought down with a lot of force. Too much force for playful banter.   
  
At his words, Cas deftly spins on the defense and comes back up with a decent-sized stick and twirls it in his hands. Dean grins and without taking his eyes off of his opponent, manages to procure his own stick after a few more blocks.   
  
A crowd has formed and the sparring instructions from Cas have ceased, the movements increasing in speed and fluidity. Cas hasn’t broken a sweat but Dean is flushed, his breathing faster. The sound of the sticks hitting echoes loudly, Dean’s splintering into two.   
  
“Uh, Sam, I don’t think they’re playing anymore,” Luc whispers.   
  
Sam’s arms are crossed and he’s watching in affectionate amusement. “It’s almost over. Cas will pin him. He always does.”   
  
Sure enough, after a few swift moves, Cas brings Dean down flat on his back so hard that it knocks the breath out of him and everyone collectively gasps. Dean groans but manages to force a laugh. Cas moves off of him, clasps his hand and lifts Dean up as if he’s as light as a grocery sack full of bread.   
  
“Your turn?” Cas turns his azure eyes on him.   
  
“You know, I’m gonna take a raincheck on that. Maybe a, uh, more private lesson away from so many eyes,” Luc says and he doesn't miss the bitchface Dean gives him. “But seriously, that was impressive.”

He means it. Cas was beyond impressive and Luc will have a hard time not imaging being pinned under that body when left to his next quiet, reflective moment.   
  
Cas shrugs modestly and steps back, dropping his intact stick. The crowd disperses in order to start pairing up, receive instruction and let the actual competition begin. But the men step away, their fun already spent.   
  
“Damn it, Cas, I think you broke a rib.” Dean clutches a hand to the opposite ribcage.   
  
Cas steps up close to Dean and whispers something Luc can’t make out. Dean tells him no but Cas leans closer and places a hand on Dean’s back. Dean wiggles out of the embrace and mumbles a thanks. What the hell was that about?   
  
“Daddy!” Luc turns instantly at the voice, his baby girl racing toward him from the tent. He scoops her up.   
  
“We need to go get your sweater before it gets much later, young lady. I can’t believe we forgot it. You can use the potty at the house, too.”   
  
“‘I don’t need to go,” she whines, kicking her legs against him, but he knows she will go when they get there.   
  
“Cas, care to walk us back to the house?”   
  
“Of course,” Cas says, stepping away from Dean. Grace leans out of Luc’s arms toward Cas when he comes closer, automatically holding out his hands to take her.   
  
“Sorry, she’s a little monkey.” Thiigh, he’s not really sorry and he lets Cas hold her.   
  
“I like monkeys,” Cas says smiling at her. Grace grins and wraps her arms tight around his neck, resting against his shoulder. Luc’s heart can’t take much more of how touching it is to watch them together.   
  
But he’s gotta be cool. They aren’t a couple and what if the guy ends up being an absolute pig, a bigot, a racist, a religious fruitcake? There are still too many unknowns but he gets the feeling Cas is none of those things.   
  
“Is this the house that your neighbors think is haunted?” Cas asks as they walk by the modest one-story.   
  
“Yeah, that’s the one. They probably just need an electrician to come out and fix some wiring. And soon, before something catches fire.”   
  
“Perhaps,” Cas murmurs, lost in thought.   
  
When they get inside Luc’s house he urges his daughter toward the restroom and gives Cas a quick tour. It’s a small house with a living room, small kitchen, a single bathroom and two bedrooms. The tour ends when they reach Grace’s room and Luc grabs her a sweater.  
  
Finally Luc finds the courage to ask Cas about going out again, since he isn’t sure when they’ll have another quiet moment alone this evening, when a pounding comes at the door. Dean opens it without waiting for a response. He’s on the phone and agitated. “Cas is right here, Jody.” Dean thrusts his phone at Cas. “It’s about Claire.”   
  
Grace comes out of the bathroom and Luc distracts himself with putting her sweater on while watching Cas pace toward the kitchen, speaking in low tones. “When was the last time you spoke with her? And you’re sure she’s out this way? Jody, we will find her. Tell me as many details as you have.”   
  
“Who are Jody and Claire?” Luc asks, looking up at Sam from where he is kneeling and buttoning Grace up.   
  
“Well, Jody is a family friend, and a sheriff we work with. She’s sort of adopted Claire, who is like a daughter to Cas,” Sam says, narrowing his eyes and pressing his lips together like he’s said more than he wanted to say and needs to physically stop himself.   
  
“If anything has happened to her--” Dean says, running his hands through his hair.   
  
Sam turns to his brother. “Dean, she is resourceful,” he says soothingly, pushing his brother away toward the door so they can speak more privately.   
  
Luc can’t help but overhear in the small space as Dean whispers furtively, “This is why we don’t make friends outside of hunting. People get hurt, damn it.”   
  
“You’ve got to stop blaming yourself every single time other people make their own choices. This isn’t your fault.”   
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Dean says dismissively.   
  
“Technically she’s in this life because of Cas, and her father, if you want to play the blame game.”

“And we can trace Cas being here, and needing Jimmy, back to me so your point is invalid.”

Sam grunts in frustration. “Cas has done nothing but try to make it up to her these last couple years, just as you try to make up your wrongs.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just--”   
  
“I know you think of her as a daughter, too, Dean. We’ll find her. And Cas will make sure she’s okay even if he has to use the last of his grace--”   
  
“We need to go,” Cas says, striding back into the living room and heading for the door.   
  
“Is everything okay?” Luc asks, trying to catch up to them, head swimming from the strange turn of events and weird lingo about hunting and grace. Maybe Cas falls into the religious fruitcake category but Luc will have to find out later because they’re intent on leaving.   
  
“I’m so sorry to have to leave but we have an emergency and a young girl’s life is in danger. We’ll talk later.” And then Cas is gone and their night together is over.   
  
Luc struggles with feeling disappointed but mostly he feels fearful for this girl, who is so clearly cared about, and in some form of danger. Cas had said he didn’t have children but he never mentioned Claire, a girl that Sam likens to being a daughter to Cas. He tries to swallow down the ugly feeling rising up that Sam also likens her to being like a daughter to Dean as well.   
  
“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back to the party,” Luc says, hoping the distraction of it will help time to pass swiftly. If he hadn’t had Grace to look after he’d have offered to come help look for Claire. All he can do is hope they find her, that she is safe, that he can see Cas again soon.   
  
It’s two days later when he gets a text from him.   


_[Cas]_  
 _I apologize again for leaving prematurely. We found Claire and she’s home now._ **  
****  
  
** Luc’s hands tremble as he dials Cas’ phone number. He has to work tomorrow but he wants to see him, make sure he is alright, and get a few things off of his own chest.  
  
“Hey, Cas, I’m so glad you found her. So I was, uh, wondering if you were busy tonight? Grace is with her mom and I’m just hanging out making dinner for one. I thought maybe you could join me, we could talk about it, if you want. And maybe watch a movie?”   
  
He holds his breath and totally does not break into a dopey smile when Cas says yes.   



	7. ~ Dean ~

“He has a kid, Cas. Not just a kid-kid but a _small child,_ ” Dean says. He pats his chest where his sunglasses should be hanging on his shirt, so he can put them in the glove box, only to remember he left them on a picnic table. Damn it.  
  
“So what are we to do? Never have companions with children?” the deep voice grouses from the backseat.  
  
“No, what we’re never to do is have companions, period. Who the hell uses a word like that? ‘Companion’?” Dean scoffs, pressing the gas pedal down, the Impala growling louder in response.  
  
Sam turns to his brother, ever practical. “Dean, friends and companions aside, it sounds like we have a salt-n-burn situation right next door. Cas should at least stick around long enough for that to get dealt with.”  
  
“First things first, we find Claire,” Dean says, clenching his jaw.  
  
“Of course, I wasn’t suggesting otherwise. Cas, what did Jody say?” Sam turns to look over his shoulder.  
  
“Claire was in Kansas City looking at a missing person case. She went in alone when she should’ve called us for backup,” Cas says venomously. Dean glances at him in the rearview mirror and takes in the worry lines etching his forehead and around his eyes.  
  
“Alright, what else?” Dean asks more gently. They don’t have time for reassurances until they’re confident in what they’re going after but Dean can at least chill with the attitude.  
  
“It could be anything from a Djinn to a pack of werewolves or a nest of vampires. Claire didn’t specify to Jody except to text her last known address before she went in.”

“GPS?”

“Can’t get a lock on her.”  
  
“Damn it! I swear on my last death that I’m going to find a way to permanently attach a locator to that girl’s forehead. And while I’m at it I’m going to implant you as well, Cas.” Dean ignores the whiplash Sam just gave himself, his brother breaking into a coughing fit to hide a laugh. If Dean wasn’t so stressed right now he’d be burning up with embarrassment for his poor choice of words.  
  
“Why me? What did I do?” Cas asks from the center of the backseat. Dean just glares at him in the rearview mirror, Sam’s shoulders shaking in his peripheral vision.

He wants to tell Cas that perhaps it has something to do with him flying off and leaving Dean sick with worry from time-to-time. But he has to give Cas some credit because Cas hasn’t done it in some time.  
  
“Never mind,” Dean mumbles, taking the ramp for US-59-S.  
  
“Well I don’t think it’d be Djinn,” Sam says. He’s pulled up a map on his phone to check the last known location. “The area around the warehouse is too busy and would spook them.”  
  
“So we bring silver and blades. Unless you geniuses think it could be something besides vamps or weres?”  
  
“Dean, for all we know it could be… human,” Sam says.  
  
“I was afraid you might say that. Demons, vampires, ghosts - I get. Humans, not so much. We _should_ have a clearer moral compass. Who could wanna harm a kid?”  
  
The car falls silent for some time.    
  
Dean clears his throat. They have a few hours on the road so they might as well talk ghosts for a second. “Ideas on how to get into Luc’s neighbors’ house without drawing suspicion? Sam?”  
  
“We could bring outside help, faces the neighbors wouldn’t recognize, that could pose as electricians. Or Cas could figure out when the family works and we do a daytime job.”  
  
“Man, I hate digging up graves in daylight. It feels… icky.”  
  
“Icky, Dean? Really?” Sam shoots him a look that says that he clearly thinks Dean is a moron.  
  
Dean chooses to ignore him and instead get back to driving and getting to Claire. He turns on music to try and drown out the terrifying thoughts that assault him, trying to not think about finding her tortured or dead.  
  
A little over three hours later Dean is easing the Impala into a warehouse district, the closest one to her last known location, with the lights off and coasting so the car is as quietly as it is gonna get.

“Let’s get out and walk the rest of the way,” Dean says, cutting the engine when he spies Claire’s car.  
  
They meet around the back of the car and pull a plethora of weapons from the trunk, Sam also manning the flashlight but they’re going to keep it off as long as possible.  
  
After checking the perimeter of a few buildings Sam whispers, “Looks like it’s this one,” a building three blocks away from where they parked. There are fresh, smaller footprints that could belong to Claire.  
  
They make their way around over gravel, under dim yellow street lights, peeking around buildings and looking for any signs of life. It appears to be empty but they maintain silence. They try three doors before they find one they can get open with minimal noise.  
  
Cas goes in first and uses his freaky night vision, or whatever angels have, to scope it out. He indicates they follow. Dean steps inside, Sam taking up the rear. It’s so dark he can barely see two feet ahead of him.

He inches along behind Cas down a corridor, pausing when he hears Cas pause, trying to use his sense of hearing instead of sight. They check each large storage room one-at-a-time along the way but at each one Cas whispers, “No”.  
  
They find a stairwell and head to the next level, also empty. By the fifth level Dean is beside himself with impatience and adrenaline, sweat gathering at the low of his back. He keeps waiting for someone to pop out and try to kill them all. But he knows they have to go slow and steady in case Claire is alive or they risk her being further harmed.  
  
Cas pauses at a locked door and presses his hand to the wood, waiting. He nods once. Dean pulls out his lockpick kit while Sam carefully points his flashlight for Dean to be able to see. They had kept the light off up until now but this is it, she has to be beyond this door.  
  
They get the door open and Cas leads the way. The large, open room is dark but Sam shines his light around mostly empty shelves until the beam falls on the blonde hair of one Claire Novak. Dean fights back the urge to race to her, eyes darting around the shadows for an assailant but the room appears to be empty.  
  
Cas reaches her first, nimble fingers placed at her neck. Cas nods and turns as he stands back up, brandishing his angel blade. He’s tilting his head like he’s listening for something. Dean comes in closer, trying to hear what Cas hears. Suddenly Cas looks straight up. Dean follows his line of sight just as a huge fucking bat creature swoops down.  
  
Dean immediately shoves Cas out of the way and finds himself enveloped in wings and fur, shrieking and mayhem. The creature latches onto to Dean tightly, suffocating him with it’s grip but also it’s rancid smell. He tries to yell but he’s choking. He can hear his brother yelling something but then Dean’s vision becomes spotty, even in the dark, and he can feel his body going limp as the creature tries to drag him toward the door they came in through.  
  
In what seems like forever Dean hears two loud shots ring out, causing the creature to loosen its grip and Dean loses his balance and slips to the floor, hitting his temple on the concrete floor..  
  
The bat thing stumbles backward as Cas yells and runs straight for it. He shoves his angel blade into the thing’s stomach up to the hilt, pulling it back out in a swift, clean move. Just for good measure, considering it had just been shot.  
  
Cas is already on his knees at Dean’s side before the creature’s dead body even hits the ground. “Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks breathlessly.  
  
Dean can see Sam ipointing his gun toward the ceiling and checking the perimeter of the room. He returns when all is clear, going to help Claire as Cas fusses over Dean. She is still unconscious and he undoes her binds.  
  
“Bat,” Dean gasps. “It was a fucking huge-ass man-bat.” Dean grimaces, letting Cas help him sit up. “Well, we can’t call it Batman. It’s a disgrace to the name.”  
  
“I saw it, Dean. And you should not have shoved me out of the way and put yourself in danger like that,” Cas scolds. He helps Dean get all the way to his feet, pulling him close, almost chest-to-chest.  
  
Sam interrupts by snapping, “You two can bicker later. Help me get Claire.”  
  
They go to help Sam who is laying her out gently on the ground and looking her over. Other than a scabbing head wound, and filthy clothes, she appears to be unscathed.  
  
“Oh she’s gonna hear it from me the moment she wakes up,” Dean says, jumping up and pacing, gingerly touching at the line of blood already drying at his temple.  
  
“Dean,” Cas says, frowning.  
  
“What _was_ that thing, Cas? I have never ever seen anything like that. And Claire decided to track it and go after it without a word to any of us or to Jody? Reckless!”  
  
“Dean,” Cas growls.  
  
“Can you guys yell at me after we get outta here?” A soft, feminine voice mutters.  
  
Dean snaps his head over to find Claire blinking her eyes open. “Kid,” Dean says in relief, sliding to his knees next to her. “We’re here, we got you. But don’t you ever, _ever_ fucking do that again.”  
  
“Yeah, okay, half-alive here. Lectures later.” She tries to sit up and get on her feet so she can test out her wobbly, stiff legs. She bends down to rub her knees and groan.  
  
“Just the one man-bat, right? Or should we be looking for more of these things to kill?” Dean asks.  
  
“Orang-bati,” Claire says. “And just the one.”  
  
“Orange bat?” Dean says just as Sam says, “Orang-bati?”  
  
Sam continues, “Those are nowhere near indigenous to us. Why the hell would it be in the Midwest? From what I know they eat monkeys, though lore says they have been known to take children as well.” Sam walks over to look at it closely, rolling it over and spreading it’s winged arms wide for pictures.  
  
“Yeah, apparently it wanted to make me it’s next trans-continental meal ticket but it had just eaten and was saving me for later. Guess it didn’t like me snooping around.” Claire moans, touching the heel of her hand to her own temple lightly.  
  
Dean is confused about it’s presence just as the next guy but, “How do you even know about these things, Sam?”  
  
“It’s called research,” Sam says, continuing his photo session. “You should try it some time.”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes and looks over to Cas who is letting Claire lean on him. “Alright, alright. Let’s get Claire out of here and into a motel for the night. Cas, take her down to the car and call Jody. Sam and I will dispose of the orange bat.”  
  
“Orang-bati,” Sam corrects. Dean rolls his eyes again.  
  
They luck out and remember they saw an incinerator in the building during their search, making quick work of disposal. They toss the bindings that were used on Claire in it as well and remove as much evidence of their presence as possible.  
  
“Too late to make the drive home tonight, guys. I’m exhausted,” Dean says when he slips behind the wheel. Claire is still leaning against Cas in the backseat, already dozing off.  
  
Sam punches his shoulder playfully, their moods light for what turned out to be a fairly easy hunt. “Just admit you’re an old fart, Dean.”  
  
“You’re... an… old fart,” Dean says lamely. He’s too tired to come up with anything better.  
  
“Claire told me she already has a room at the Super 8 on Barry,” Cas offers. They stop to grab cheap burgers, waking her to eat before they help her to her room. Papers and notes are scattered over the table and one of the single beds.  
  
They stick around and wait for Claire to shower, to make sure she’ll be okay, even though Cas healed her injuries. Sam gathers up the papers on the one bed and sits at the table to look over it all while Dean and Cas sit side-by-side on the love seat, watching some Chiefs rerun.    
  
“It’s already paid for,” she says behind a yawn, collapsing onto the clear bed as soon as she shuffles out of the bathroom. “There’s a pull-out so stay... and then you can get out of my hair in the morning. And, um, thank you.”  
  
“I call dibs on the second bed. And you two can have the pull-out,” Sam says quickly.  Dean gives Sam his own medicine in the form of a bitchface. “Come on, you know Cas is gonna be up watching over everyone. If you’re so scared of cooties then Cas can share with me.”  
  
“Okay, whatever. I don’t have the energy to argue. I’m gonna shower and then I’m gonna sleep. If anyone gets in my way they will get decked. So I don’t care where you pop-a-squat, Cas, just don’t disturb my slumber.”  
  
“You have my word, Dean. I would not dare poke the bear,” Cas says, turning to the hide-away to untuck it.  
  
Dean grabs the emergency duffel bag that he keeps in the car and returns to shower and change. When he comes out of the bathroom the lights are off except for the television, the volume at the lowest setting.

Cas has pulled out the bed but is sitting on top of the blankets, legs stretched straight out and crossed at the ankles, hair disheveled. He has left plenty of room for Dean, intent on staying up through the night regardless of his own fatigue.  
  
Dean licks his lips and steps forward, peeling back the blankets on his side of the bed and tucking in with his back to Cas. “G’night, Cas.”  
  
“Good night, Dean.”  
  
Dean closes his eyes, lets his breathing slow and is soon fast asleep knowing that Claire and his loved ones are safe in this room with him tonight. They got her, she’s safe, and Cas is watching over them. He sleeps soundly...  
  
…until a deep voice is rumbling in his ear, sweet nothings and dirty somethings. He knows that voice but the things he is saying are enough to make Dean blush and stutter. Cas is curled up close to his side, lips close to Dean’s ear. A quick scan of the room shows Dean that they're alone.

“Cas?” he asks in uncertainty.  
  
“Shhh, let me touch you,” Cas says, more a command than a question.  
  
Before Dean can respond Cas sits up and throws a leg over him, straddling his waist. He grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt and pulls it up slowly, eyes and palms trailing along Dean’s body as the shirt goes. Dean’s skin feels prickly and hot in each place that Cas touches, skin shivering, the shirt tossed carelessly aside once freed.

Dean stops Cas’ hands with his own when fingers slide into the waistband of Dean’s boxers. “Cas, what’re you doing?” His voice is breathy, hope-filled and nervous.

Cas smiles slowly, grabs the elastic and pulls down, ignoring Dean’s hesitance. Dean doesn’t try all that hard to stop him. Cas’ body travels down the length of Dean’s legs, along with the boxers, until they clear Dean’s feet and get thrown over Cas’ shoulder.

Cas is resting between his shins, hot hands against ankles, eyes locked onto Dean’s prominent erection that he doesn’t remember getting.

Dean feels exposed and confused and thrilled, opens his mouth to say something but slams it shut when Cas turns those eyes on his and rises up on his knees to begin plucking at the buttons of his own shirt. Slowly. Each one undone revealing more of Cas’ skin, Dean’s breathing grows shallow in want.

Cas’ muscles across his chest and torso bunch and flex as he twists his body in order to slip his arms out. He tosses the shirt at Dean’s face playfully but Dean quickly swats it away. If he has to lay here, spread out in the open, then he'll damn well enjoy the show.

Cas teases the waistband of his own boxers, snapping them against bony hips, eyebrow arched. Dean nods emphatically and wets his lips. They’re thumbed down, unleashing Cas’ hard length with a bounce. Dean can't find his breath for a moment. Cas is too far, he needs to come closer.

Hands begin trailing up Dean’s legs as Cas crawls back, thick thighs squeezing Dean’s hips tightly when Cas settles over him again. Dean sits up on his elbows to meet him, his cock tensing, but Cas shoves him back into the pillows and shakes his head.

Dean wants to touch him and reaches out hands to those delicious thighs but Cas stops his roaming hands by lacing their fingers together, palms-to-palms, planting their joined hands firmly on either side of Dean’s head. The position lowers Cas over Dean and presses their cocks together, their lips a mere inch apart. Cas leans in, distributing his weight over Dean, ghosting their lips in an almost-kiss before he moves lower to nuzzle the underside of Dean’s stubbled jaw.

Dean groans in protest for the missed kiss but tilts his head back in pleasure for the feel of Cas’ lips moving against the straining tendons there. He squeezes their joined hands and hitches his hips once. Twice. On the third one Cas responds by rolling his hips in to meet him. He returns to Dean’s mouth to catch Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, drawing it in to suckle, as he continues rolling into him.

Cas lets his lip go and opens his mouth against Dean’s, slipping tongue in to meet tongue. Their hips imitate the movements as their tongues slide together slow and smooth, in and out, around in dizzying circles, retreating as lips close and press softly, languidly. Their breaths pant against one another, both of them unwilling to come up for oxygen, preferring the same breaths they currently occupy.

“Cas,” Dean breathes. “Ah, Cas.”

Cas feels so good, sounds so good, moaning and grunting and growling in low predatory decibels. Dean doesn’t want it to stop. They rock against each other, hips rolling together in synchrony, skin dampening. Dean wants to feel all of him but he's pinned, Cas kneading Dean’s hands into the cushion as he grinds his cock against Dean.

“M-more. _Please,”_ Dean practically whimpers. “I want you.”

Cas leans up to look him in the eyes, smile twisted. “I want _you,_ Lucas.”

Dean jerks awake violently, bolting straight up in bed, heart pounding. A glance over his right shoulder shows Cas is still there, still dressed, but fast asleep sitting against the back of the hide-away bed. The flickering images on the television cast strange shadows around the room and over the two still-occupied beds.

Dean gets up stiffly, the boner he rode through the dream dying from the shock of hearing Cas say someone else’s name in one of the most vividly detailed sex dreams he has had in a long time. He turns the tv off, plunging himself in darkness, a shaky hand running through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please oh please don't hate me for that. *runs and hides*  
> I'll make it up to you, PROMISE!


	8. ~ Cas ~

“It’s always good to see you Claire. We meant it when we said to call if you need anything. That includes chasing after ‘man-bats’,” Cas tells her, his lip curling up with use of the word that Dean had used to describe the creature.  
  
Dean steps up, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed. “C’mere, kid.”  
  
“I’m not a kid,” Claire says, her voice muffled where she presses her face into Dean’s chest in an embrace.  
  
“Nah, you’ll always be a kid to me. Not because you’re weak or dumb, or anything stupid like that, but because…” Dean doesn’t finish his sentence and takes a step back, ducking his head in embarrassment.  
  
“Because you care?” Claire asks. She rolls her eyes but smiles at Dean softly. “Well, like I said when I was half-conscious, thank you. I-- I should’ve called but I didn’t want to bug you. Guess it all goin’ down like this was worse and I should’ve just called from the get-go.”  
  
“Damn right. You’re not an inconvenience. Bug us! We want you to. If we can’t physically get to you then we’ll send in some other troops. You don’t have to do this shit alone, Claire. We’re all stronger in teams.”  
  
Cas can see Claire turning those words over in her mind, turning to give Sam a hug when he clears his throat. She gives them one final wave and pops into her car, all the while Dean reminding her to call Jody to keep her in the loop.  
  
“Alright, let’s get home ourselves. We need to start research and bust-a-ghost,” Dean says, twirling his keys in his hands and getting into the Impala.  
  
Cas never asks to sit in the front anymore, deferring to Sam, but Sam slides in the back to stretch out. Dean looks over at Cas in shock when he slips onto the bench next to him.

Dean has been acting strangely, was up before the sun when he had said he was so exhausted. To Cas, Dean feels prickly around the edges, like he’s wary, but Cas doesn’t use his power to pry.  
  
He has no idea what he’s done now, because Dean was fine with Claire and Sam, but is being distant with him. Dean won’t look him in the eye. Perhaps Dean is upset that Cas ended up falling asleep next to him, again. It doesn’t seem like something that should upset Dean at all, though.  
  
He frowns as he studies Dean’s features but Dean is glaring hard out the windshield. “Are you alright, Dean?”  
  
“S’nothing, Cas, don’t worry about it.”  
  
“I’ll stop worrying about you as soon as... oh that’s right, never. What is wrong?”  
  
Dean sighs tiredly. “Just the same shit. Nightmares. It’s in my head, not real, nothin’ ya can do.”  
  
“Well, if you want to talk about it, I will listen,” Cas offers, averting his eyes for Dean’s comfort, squinting out his window at passing trees and historic houses.  
  
Dean shakes his head and huffs in exasperation. “Yeah, right. Not happenin’. Just drop it, ‘kay?”  
  
“Will you at least tell me if it was something that I said or did? I didn’t mean to upset you if I have.”  
  
Dean is silent for a moment. “Nah, not your fault, Cas. It’s all on me.” Dean snaps the radio on and a woman croons, ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’ with a melancholy piano accompaniment.  
  
The rest of the ride is much of the same with strange, sad songs and Dean’s growing sullenness. Cas can’t do anything to help if Dean won’t let him, so he gives Ddan his space, as much as it pains Cas to do so. He just wants Dean to be happy. And he _should_ be happy because they rescued Claire and she’s unharmed.  
  
They get home to the bunker in time to make lunch and begin research on what spirit could be haunting the Parkers. It reminds Cas that Lucas must have been concerned with their abrupt departure so he sends him a quick text to let him know Claire is safe.  
  
His phone rings almost immediately after the message shows as ‘read’ and Dean raises his brows at him from across the table. He mouths, “Claire?” as Cas answers the phone. Cas shakes his head no.    
  
He’s being invited over for dinner and a movie tonight. This would be a great opportunity to find out more about the Parker’s schedule so they can get in there, gank the ghost and let the couple live in peace. After a brief hesitation he agrees and promises to be over at 7.  
  
“What was that about?” Dean asks.  
  
“It appears I am invited to Lucas’ house tonight,” he says, and Dean’s longing flares so sudden and so strong that it feels like the very breath has been knocked out of Cas. Belying that feeling Dean looks angry and… hurt?  
  
Sam, on the other hand, sees the merit in Cas going over. “This is perfect timing. Okay, see what you can find out. Hopefully we can get in there quick and quiet.”  
  
Cas turns back to the laptop and squints at it, pressing a few buttons to pull up the market details. “It appears it was built in 1992. I suppose no one decided to develop the land just beyond it, where we had the neighborhood party, into more homes. I wonder why.”  
  
Dean seems to be having an issue across the table, fidgeting before he stands abruptly to half-jog out of the room in quick strides. Cas looks to Sam in question but he only seems amused.

“Do you know what is going on with your brother?”  
  
Sam gives him a half-shrug, returning to his laptop. “Give him some space. He’s probably still coming down from worrying over Claire.” Sam gives him a half-smile over his screen.  
  
Okay that makes sense, perhaps. Cas continues scrolling around to try and find out why it’s been 25 years since homes were built in Lucas’ neighborhood. “Oh,” Cas says. “Most of this land is preserved and protected by the city. It is sacred ground,” Cas frowns, “and we were traipsing all over it for that party.”  
  
“Yeah, but it is sacred most likely for a culture of people who accept the afterlife long before they actually die. And we probably weren’t actually standing on any part of the actual burial ground. A battlefield would be more likely for a massive haunting but we’re not seeing a massive haunting here anyway. Clearly, whatever we are after, is specific to the one house so let’s focus there. You didn’t get any tingly feelings when we were on the land, did you?”  
  
Cas shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”  
  
“Alright, we need to find out who died. Maybe the couple inherited or bought a cursed object that tethers a spirit. I mean, it could be anything. I’m currently looking to see if anyone connected with the house has died in, or around, the place and will let you know what I find.”  
  
Sam doesn’t find anything so Cas needs to investigate the couple, and find out a good time they can break in if they do need to poke around. He’s nervous because investigation isn’t his strong suit but it helps that Lucas is a friend instead of a stranger.    
  
An hour later Cas gets ready to go and decides to wear the green shirt everyone seems to like. It is a very nice color, though it’s symbolism is mixed. Green can represent anything from greed and jealousy, to nature and harmony.  
  
Cas strolls into the kitchen to bid the brothers farewell and Dean watches him with haunted eyes from the kitchen table, fidgeting with a beer bottle label.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can cancel, Dean.”  
  
Dean clears his throat and sighs heavily, refusing to make eye contact. “No, go. We need to close up this case and you’re the best bet for getting, uh, close.” Dean presses his lips together tightly.  
  
“If you’re sure... “  
  
“Yes, Cas, I’m sure,” Dean snaps.  
  
It sends a flurry of annoyance up Cas’ spine. He straightens and turns on his heel. If Dean wants to pout and torture himself internally, refusing to let Cas in to simply listen, then there’s not much else to do. He has a task to complete and it would be nice to try to have fun with a friend tonight instead of tiptoeing around Dean at the bunker.  
  
He can hear Sam scolding Dean as he walks off. “You know that when you act like this you push him away…”

Sam’s voice fades as Cas turns the corner. Cas will never actually leave-leave Dean. He’ll respect the boundaries that Dean puts up, walls and all. If Dean wants to burn the bridge then Cas will stand firm on the other side of the chasm, watching from the distance. But he won’t ever stop loving him and caring for him, no matter how hard Dean tries to shove him away.  
  
On the way to Lucas’ house Cas’ thoughts take a turn to the night ahead and he feels a pang of guilt. They didn’t bring anything to the BBQ function when it was apparent they should have. Maybe Lucas will expect him to bring something tonight.

He pulls into a convenience store and looks over the selection of desserts, settling on a peach pie and an apple pie. He’ll take one to Lucas’ house and the other to Dean to hopefully boost his spirits.  
  
He also needs to be mindful to not let the conversation become one-sided, with Lucas doing all the asking as he seems to have done so far. Cas runs through a mental list of things he can ask him about. Maybe Lucas can show him more of his art, he can ask about Grace, and of course about the Parkers.  
  
Cas pulls his truck into the driveway and grabs the peach pie from the passenger seat, leaving the apple one for Dean, for later. Cas takes the few steps up to the door and knocks lightly.  
  
“Cas, hey,” Lucas says warmly, swinging the door inward and stepping aside. “Come in.”  
  
“Hello, Lucas. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty to bring a dessert.” Cas holds the pie out in front of him and turns in the foyer. “Should I remove my shoes? It seems some people prefer no shoes in their home.” He hadn’t taken them off the last time that he was there but it occurs to him to ask now.  
  
“Please. Get comfortable. I can take your coat.” Firm hands grip Cas shoulders, guiding him to turn around. Lucas slips his trench coat off slowly so Cas can juggle the pie between each hand, and then he hangs it on a hook next to the door. Cas finds a hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward the kitchen.  
  
It is odd to have someone in his space, other than Dean. Not even Sam tries to touch Cas so familiarly but every human is different. Some crave more closeness than others. He doesn’t want to be rude and pull away so he lets Lucas steer him along, setting the pie on the counter while Lucas turns back to the stove.  
  
“I think you said you like cheeseburgers so that’s what I’m making. It’s not fancy but hopefully it’s okay?”  
  
“There are few foods that I like, but cheeseburgers happen to be something that I am fond of, so thank you for remembering.”  
  
Lucas smiles brilliantly over his shoulder and flips a burger on the griddle. “Make yourself at home. There’s beer and soda in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”  
  
“Do you need help?” Cas asks, not needing a drink, and Lucas sets him up with slicing a tomato and mixing together the neglected ingredients on the kitchen island for potato salad.  
  
Cas perches on a chair at the dining room adjoined to the kitchen, with an ice cold beer that Lucas insisted he have, once he is done. There are two candlesticks burning in the center of the table, which is covered in a white fabric. Lucas went to a lot of trouble to make everything look very nice.  
  
He watches Lucas as the man adds the final touches to the burgers, thinking about what he should say but knowing he shouldn’t start off with the ghost. He had already asked Lucas about work while he made the potato salad, because Cas loves to hear stories about the residents. Lucas’ favorite is a petite little slip of a woman who used to be a dancer, still sharp as the crack of a whip, ornery and flirtatious, but sweet.  
  
He really should ask about his little girl. “How is Grace?”  
  
Lucas is pleased to be asked about her. “She is doing just great. She just started preschool. Well, pre-pre-school, last month. She’s learning so much and she is way ahead of the other kids in art, which I’m proud of, if I do say so myself.” He smiles but carefully asks, “How did your situation with Claire go?”  
  
“We found her in Kansas City. She is home now,” Cas says shortly.  
  
Lucas brings over two plates and sits down across from Cas. “That’s quite a drive from here. You seem to care for her a lot.”  
  
Cas fidgets. He doesn’t want to talk about her in great detail. The more he reveals about her, about himself, the greater the risk. Dean was right: he is stupid for thinking he could forge a friendship on a foundation of lies. Maybe he can give just a little more detail.  
  
“Claire is family. I knew her father very, um, intimately. He passed away and I felt like it was my fault. I tried to make it up to Claire and found her a home with a good friend.” There, that should suffice but Lucas is only blinking at him in confusion.  
  
“So you were, are, her father as well? I don’t understand.” Lucas shifts in his seat and looks at him earnestly. “Look, I don’t mind. I definitely don’t judge. I-- I was trying to do what society expected me to do by dating women. I was dating Grace’s mom for awhile but we broke up because I got fed up with trying to be something that I’m not.

“Shortly after we split, I found out she was pregnant. I mean, I love Grace’s mother, but I wasn’t in love with her, you know? And I’d do anything for Grace. I have no regrets that she has come into my life. If you couldn’t have custody of Claire, I get it, because I’m kinda in the same boat. It sounds like you’d do anything for Claire as well.”  
  
Cas nods slowly. “Yes, I would. And I have. But I am not her father, not in the way--” Cas shakes his head and looks away. “It’s just complicated. Why don’t you tell me more about your art? I’d love to see some of your work.”  
  
Lucas accepts the subject change graciously and gets up to grab a portfolio while Cas finishes his burger and side-eyes the peach pie with a sigh. He wants to bring Dean the apple pie now but he still needs to find out about the neighbors.  
  
“Okay, some of these are a little more private but I trust you,” Lucas says, returning to the table. He hands Cas a leather-bound sketchbook that Cas opens up to reveal drawings and paintings using various mediums.  
  
He turns to a dark picture full of long, screaming faces twisted in horror. It is definitely not the happier things he’s already seen from Lucas. “This particular charcoal sketch is quite dark. I mean, the subject matter is dark, not just the coloring. I thought you said you didn’t believe in ghosts but these look like spirits.” Cas has found his way in and now he just needs to draw out the details.  
  
“Well this is metaphorical; the ghosts of one’s past haunting them. In this case, this piece is about my sexuality. Sometimes it’s hard to look toward the future when the past has been so ugly and... unkind.” A pink flush touches Lucas’ cheeks. “Like I said, these are more personal pieces.”  
  
Cas nods. “I have never fully understood humanity’s ‘hang-ups’ with sexuality. God doesn’t mind. People are more than the sum of their parts and what they choose to do with their genitals in private.” Cas turns the page to another dark piece. It is obvious Lucas has had some struggles in his journey to self-acceptance.  
  
“You talk about God like you know him personally. Are you, uh, really religious or something?”  
  
“No,” Cas says simply. He looks up Lucas. “Tell me more about the supposed ghost next door. Is there some legend about the home or previous owners?”  
  
“Only one previous owner that I know of, but I moved in here a little over a year ago. The house has been vacant up until recently. The real tragedy is that the new homeowners, the Parkers, moved here for a fresh start. My friend, Gabbie, was telling me that they recently lost a child. I can’t even imagine.”  
  
The wheels are turning in Cas’ mind. The spirit may not be tied to the house. Perhaps it is tied to something they brought into the house, following the parents when they moved in. Warmth floods Cas for getting something accomplished. He’s getting better at hunting and it thrills him that this will please Dean.  
  
“If something happened to Grace, I just don’t know how I’d continue on. She’s my light, ya know?” Lucas turns sad eyes to him. Cas reaches out to pat the hand that Lucas is resting on the table but Lucas traps Cas’ hand there with his other, holding their hands in place.  
  
Cas blinks several times. This is definitely outside the realm of his comfort. “I, um, tell me about this piece.” Cas pulls his hand away gently and uses it to turn the page to a full-size portrait of a young baby Grace in pencil and pastels. It is stunning with soft lines and watercolor-esque shading.  
  
Lucas makes a move to stand behind Cas’ shoulder and lean over. “This is based off a photo I have of her when she just learned to walk. I love the soft colors.” He turns the page to another of Grace in pencil, toothless and laughing. Another page of a water canal. “I took a trip here a few years ago,” he explains softly, breath warm against Cas’ cheek.  
  
“Have you considered a gesture of comfort for your neighbors?” Cas asks, watching Lucas turn page after page of beautiful work, his face so close that Cas can smell his smoky aftershave.  
  
“What do you mean? Like a casserole?” Lucas turns his head ever so slightly, noses almost brushing. “I _should_ do something. It won’t change anything, but at least they’ll know they have a friend. What do you suggest?”  
  
“Food is a comfort to the soul, it would seem.” He’s still watching this human who has stopped turning pages in favor of planting his hand against the table, but still so, so close.  
  
“My specialty is a chicken and noodle soup, from scratch. Can’t get more comforting than that, I think. I mean, as far as food goes, but I’ll have to wait to make it. Gabbie is taking care of their cat while they’re out of town this week.”  
  
Cas perks up at that. “Out of town? They just moved in, I thought.”  
  
Lucas straightens and starts gathering dishes. “Yeah going to visit her family. They’re supposed to leave tomorrow. I’ll make the soup when they get back. Maybe some of the other neighbors and I can get an electrician out while Gabbie has their key, so we can surprise them. They could do without one more thing complicating life.”  
  
“That is sincerely generous of you. They are virtually strangers still.” Cas muses on that. Humans will go out of their way, out of their convenience, for one another. Even if they don’t have much to give they will find some measure of themselves to dole out in an effort to soothe the hearts of the hurting. Like Dean and Sam, dropping everything to go after Claire when she is not even their kin.  
  
Lucas shrugs the compliment off. “If we don’t take care of each other there’s not much point to it all, is there? Why don’t you go get comfortable on the sofa? I think it is a crying shame you’ve never seen The Princess Bride so, if you’re game, I thought we could watch that?”  
  
Cas had forgotten about the movie. He is ready and eager to get back to the bunker and map out a plan for getting into the Parker’s house tomorrow. But he can’t be rude and leave prematurely, not again. He had said he’d come for dinner and a movie so that is what he will do. They can’t really do anything about the ghost until tomorrow, anyway, so that will just have to wait.  
  
Cas smiles and accepts the movie suggestion. “I know of the movie and many of the well-known quotes, but I have never seen it.”  
  
“It's a classic. I still don't get how you've never seen it," Lucas says over his shoulder where he stands at the sink. "I’ll serve up the pie if you can grab the DVD? It’s in the cabinet under the television.”  
  
Cas wanders into the room, socked feet sinking into plush carpet. It is very comfortable and cozy here. Everything is clean, worn but loved. He finds the movie and figures out how to work the unfamiliar DVD player, getting as far as the menu page. He can still hear Lucas moving around the kitchen so he slips out his phone to send a quick text.

  
_[Cas]_ _  
_ _Parents’ child died. Most likely object in the house that followed when they moved._ _  
_ _  
_ _[Dean]_  
ok when do we go in

 _[Cas]_ _  
_ _Tomorrow. They’re going out of town._ _  
_ _  
_ _[Dean]_ _  
_ _got it. u on way?_ _  
_ _  
_ _[Cas]_ _  
_ _About to watch movie. Be home later._  
  
******  
** Dean doesn’t reply back so Cas pockets his phone and sits on one side of the light brown sofa that is situated across from a simple, stocky television stand. Lucas pads into the room with two dessert plates and sets them on the coffee table, next to a pair of sunglasses that look like…  
  
“Oh, before I forget, I think Dean left these?” Lucas picks the sunglasses up and takes them over to Cas’ coat hanging by the front door, slipping them into a pocket. “Don’t forget they’re there and crush them. If I don’t give them to you now I might forget.”  
  
“Yes, thank you. That is fine.”  
  
“I hope you don’t mind eating on the couch like a couple of Neanderthals,” Lucas says with a laugh.  
  
“Neanderthals did not own couches, Lucas. Nor did they have houses or pie.” He squints up at him. Surely Lucas would know this.  
  
Lucas laughs again and sits close, bumping Cas’ shoulder with his own. “Your dry sense of humor is incredibly endearing.”  
  
“Hmm, is that so? I know some people who might disagree with you.”  
  
“Then they aren’t worth the effort. Surround yourself with people who value you, who like you just the way you are. Otherwise you’ll just be miserable, either from trying to conform to their expectations, or from constantly having to defend yourself.”  
  
“I suppose that that is one thing you’ve had to learn the hard way. The something that has haunted you?”  
  
“You’re very perceptive. And yes. You know, I never did ask you your last name?”  
  
Cas is caught off guard by the request. Lucas still isn’t turning the movie on, perhaps interested in more conversation. He uses many aliases but using Winchester in this context would seem odd so he defaults to his vessel’s last name.

“Um, Novak. Why do you ask?”  
  
“So I can request you on Facebook. If that’s alright?”  
  
“I do not do the Facebook.” Cas tries for a joke. “Sometimes I feel that I am _too_ old for the computer.”  
  
“If you’re old then I’m ancient. You don’t look a day over 35. Well, I can always show you if you ever want to sign up.” Lucas gets up for the remote and sits back down, choosing to sit right next to Cas again, even though there’s ample space. He hits play on the movie and curls his legs up under him, leaning toward Cas.  
  
Cas settles in for the long haul, trying to relax. He gets through his pie and laughs at all the appropriate parts, and feels an uncanny sense of deja-vu.   
  
Cas finds himself leaning forward and biting his tongue to keep himself from trying to speak to the characters through the television screen. He wants to tell Buttercup that her Wesley is coming, and will always come for her, that his devotion to her is pure and endless. He wants to tell Wesley that Buttercup isn’t marrying for love, but because of a force that rejects her free will. That she still loves him, only him.  
  
“So what’s the verdict?” Lucas asks him as the credits roll, untucking his legs and stretching his arms above his head.  
  
“It is a perfect compilation of all the things that make a great story. Danger, tragedy, comedy and a love that prevails through it all, despite both characters being flawed,” Cas replies.  
  
Lucas’ warm smile lights up his face. “Especially because both characters are flawed. They still love each other and fight for one another, even when they think the other has wronged them. It wouldn’t be ‘true love’ if it was conditional because loving someone who is perfect is too easy.”  
  
Cas thinks about those words, a soft smile playing on his lips. He can place the deja-vu feeling he was having while he watched. And with that thought, he feels he should go home. This may very well be his favorite movie.

“Thank you for having me but I must go.”  
  
“Yeah, any time,” Lucas says quietly, walking Cas to the door. While Cas puts his coat back on, and gingerly removes Dean’s sunglasses, Lucas stops him with a hand on his arm. “I had a really good time and I just wanted to say that I really like you.”  
  
“I like you, too. We’ll get together again soon. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Cas steps out the door and into the night before Lucas can stop him again.


	9. ~ Dean ~

Dean has to get out of the bunker and drive or he’ll go crazy. He leaves Sam and Cas to do the research, not wanting to be around when Cas leaves for Luc's house. He figures that he can drive out to his favorite spot, secluded and alone. Or maybe drive down to Mickey’s and sweat a bottle of cool malt onto the bar table.

He opts for secluded and alone. He doesn't want to be around people or around temptation. The last thing he wants is some meaningless, flippant quickie in a dirty toilet stall that will end up leaving him temporarily sated but empty.    
  
How could he be so blind?  It is all so clear now that this Luc guy isn’t just wanting a friend. He is wanting a _boyfriend_ in _Cas._ Perfect, kind, normal Luc. Someone who is leaps and bounds greater than Dean. Luc, a person who could easily be loved without the demons and the horrors of hell crowding his mind.   
  
Dean thinks back to the times they’ve all gotten together, how at-ease Cas was with Luc. But that can’t be right, Cas was just being friendly. Maybe Cas doesn’t know he’s being hit on. Worse, maybe he does and he likes it, wants it. Like in Dean’s dream. He did use the word ‘companion’ and seriously, who the fuck calls a friend that if it isn’t _more than just friends?_   
  
He gets texts from Cas as he paces in front of Baby where she's parked on a hill just outside of Lebanon. Texts that Cas is probably sneaking out to Dean from the guise of needing to use the bathroom, while Cas is on what is clearly recognizable as a date, now that Dean has climbed out of the pit of denial.

He secretly hopes that Cas is going to cut the night short since they have the vital information that they need, so he asks if he’s on his way home but no, they’re watching a movie. Isn’t that Dean’s and his thing? Dean is the one bleeding culture into Cas, it is what _they_ do together. It’s close, it’s intimate, it’s… wait…   
  
Dean does suppose that in his own ways he’s tried courting Cas, putting out feelers, propositioning him and making it known that he’s interested. But Cas hasn’t ever taken the bait. And to think that he’s with another man, who’s clearly into him, who is coming onto him, and Cas choosing Luc, well, it makes Dean’s stomach revolt. He feels twisted and sour inside.   
  
He considers driving out there and finding some excuse to pull Cas out. What if the advances are unwanted? No, Cas can take care of himself. Dean can’t keep him from happiness or from doing what he wants.   
  
He goes back home and throws on his headphones, listens to music and tries to sleep. When he gets tired of the noise he tosses the headphones onto the empty side of his bed and listens, straining to hear for when Cas comes in because he left his door open in order to do just that.

It’s close to midnight when he hears the familiar gait of Cas’ shoes over tile. He pretends he’s asleep because he doesn't think that he can talk to Cas right now. When Cas pauses in his doorway instead of continuing toward his room Dean holds his breath.  
  
Cas steps closer, a crisp crinkle of plastic sounding against the nightstand as Cas lays something down. Before Cas retreats his fingertips brush against Dean’s forehead as he adjusts errant hair.

Dean is about to pass out from not breathing when he feels Cas lean down and pause, but after hesitation he straightens and walks away, turning off the lights that had been left on and closing Dean’s door with a soft click.   
  
Dean relieves his burning lungs by gulping in a breath of air. He fumbles for his phone and uses the light to see that Cas has left an apple pie, just for him, with a post-it that simply reads: _I’m sorry ~ Cas._   
  
Dean groans. Cas is apologizing when he hasn't done anything wrong.   
  
Time for a self-directed pep talk, no more sulking.

_Okay, you’re Dean -fucking- Winchester. Are you going to roll over and admit defeat or are you going to actually fight for what you want? You've got two options. Either man up and do something or drive Cas away to the arms of another person. There isn’t an in-between, there isn’t an Option C._

And he’s fucking done with trying to drive Cas away because of his fear of rejection. It goes against every instinct, every desire and it just hurts so, so bad. He’s tired of hurting. 

Dean gets up and steps lightly down the hall, pausing outside Cas’ door, his insides in knots. Should he knock? Barge in? What does he even say? He can see a light under the door and Cas is definitely awake judging by the light noises he can hear.

He lifts up a fist to knock before he can talk himself out of it. The movement beyond the door quiets, the knob turns and the door pops open enough for Cas to peer two narrowed blue eyes out at him. The squint disappears when he sees it is Dean.

“Dean? I thought you were asleep,” he whispers.

Dean doesn't know what to say or do. He rubs at the back of his neck and says the first thing to come to mind. “You got a pie.”

The door is still only slightly cracked and Cas won’t open the door any further. What is Cas doing? The corner of his lip turns up. “Yes, I did. I-- hold on a minute.” Cas moves away from the door, not pushing it hard enough to shut it into the door frame.   
  
Curiosity takes root and Dean lays a palm against the door and pushes. In the middle of the room Cas looks up at him with wide eyes, thumbs tucked into unbuttoned pants that Cas is about to slide off and out of, shirtless, hair a windblown wreck and jaw slack in surprise for the intrusion.

Dean moves his mouth to speak but all that comes forth is a poorly suppressed groan. In three strides he plants himself in front of the startled angel, hands cupping the back of his neck so Dean can tease his fingers through the hair he has dreamed of caressing for years.

Cas gasps at their lips’ first contact but he doesn't even try to pretend he isn't gung-ho for it, no hesitation, just greedy acceptance that he pulls from Dean’s mouth. His hands clasp Dean’s waist, fingers curling tight into Dean's t-shirt, pulling them a step closer.

“Cas, say my name,” Dean pleads just above a whisper. 

Now Cas hesitates, pulling back just far enough to see if Dean is really there, like he's trying to decide if he is really in his right mind.

When, “Dean,” glides off his baritone, through thick vocal chords, Dean whimpers a kiss against Cas’ mouth and walks him backward until Cas’ knees bend to the pressure of the mattress behind him. Dean follows Cas as he slides back to slouch against the headboard, opening his legs to invite Dean to settle between them.

Hands grip at Dean, rubbing at him through cotton when he wants skin-on-skin. Dean breaks away and pulls his shirt off and looks down at the debauched vision before him, glassy lust-filled eyes piercing him in an unwavering gaze.

Cas’ bare chest rises and falls with his panting breath and there's a sheen in the hollow of his neck that Dean really, really wants to lick. Cas lay there openly trusting and waiting for Dean’s next move, his burgundy boxers peeking through the unzipped pants that still haven't made it off of his ass.

Dean’s brain slams to a halt. What is he doing? He should say something, anything. He should tell Cas to drop Luc like a hot potato, to choose him instead, convince him to stay, tell him he's beautiful, tell him he's amazing, tell him he is Dean’s world, that Dean cannot keep going on like he’s been going on...

Cas sits up, his abdomen muscles flexing and distracting Dean enough that he stops over-thinking to reach out fingers that strum along the tense muscles. His face ends up in Cas’ trembling palms and Dean places his hand over it to keep Cas’ hands in place, closing his eyes. He just wants… he just needs…

“Dean,” Cas says. “Oh, Dean, it's okay.”

“I want you.”

“I know.”

Green eyes snap open. No, Cas needs to understand this isn't just physical. He implores Cas to understand the weight of his next words. “I need you.”

There's a flicker in the blue depths, the softening of Cas’ brow, an ever so slight tilt of head and Dean’s name whispered so softly it may as well have been his imagination if he hadn't seen Cas’ own lips pray it in one wispy breath.  

Cas brings Dean’s mouth back to his, sliding his hands past Dean’s dampening temples and into hair. One hand remains at the back of his head while Cas’ other hand trails down the back of neck, between shoulders so Dean’s chest can be guided to close the gap between them, pressing their bare chests together.

Dean can feel his pounding heart echoing against the pounding of Cas’ heart.  
  
“Cas, you back yet? You find out anyth-- Oh. My. God.” Sam stops short in the doorway, probably having noticed the light spilling into the hallway on his way to bed.  
  
Dean doesn’t move away from Cas except to stop kissing the prickly five o’clock shadow along Cas’ jaw. Without looking over he rasps out, “Sam? Shut the fucking door.”   
  
When the door slams in a glass rattling boom Dean and Cas look at each other and burst out laughing, Dean collapsing against Cas, the laughter dispelling the overwrought emotion clouding his head since Kansas City. Dean rolls off to lay next to him, still shaking and chuckling.  
  
He sobers a little and stares at the hand he lays against Cas’ stomach when he rolls onto his side to face him. “Can I stay?”  
  
“Of course.” Cas puts a hand over Dean’s and looks over at him, rolling over after a few seconds so they’re face-to-face. A thumb comes up and brushes against the bottom of Dean’s still bruised lip, parting them and Cas watches with rapt attention. Dean waits to see what Cas will do.  
  
Bright blues raise up to search Dean’s eyes before returning to Dean’s lips as Cas brushes his thumb across them again. Dean reflexively licks away the tickly sensation, enjoying the minute flex of Cas’ eyebrows at the sight. Thumb moves away from lips, following fingers that brush against Dean’s cheeks and up into his hair to give Cas enough leverage to pull Dean closer, pressing parted lips to parted lips.   
  
Dean shifts closer just as Cas does, until they’re a tangle of limbs and their mouths and tongues are burning from years of built up pressure. Dean’s brain is a litany of _CasCasCas_ and a niggling disbelief somewhere deep inside that this could also be a dream. But even if it is… fuck it. Cas said _his name_ this time so he’s gonna enjoy it.  
  
Somewhere along the way, as they roll their tongues together, his hand found Cas’ bare back. When Cas breaks away from Dean’s mouth, giving him a moment to get oxygen back to his brain, he realizes Cas’ pants need to go and he draws his palm lower, sliding easily between flesh and the fabric still covering it.   
  
Cas jerks slightly at the intrusion and pulls up from where he had been slowly licking a line up Dean’s collarbone. His breath tickles when Cas presses his lips to Dean’s ear to whisper, “I should bring you pie more often.” It shouldn't sound so sexy but it totally does, Dean's body shuddering and his dick twitching in response, all while he breaks out into a moan-slash-laugh.   
  
But Dean’s laugh is cut-off by one very serious angel who is ready to get down to business, returning to Dean’s mouth with a fervor and passion he’s only ever seen Cas direct toward saving lives. Only sexier. But maybe it is Dean’s life needing saving now because he feels like he’s drowning between the weight Cas shifts over him and the literal breath-stealing kisses that draw out ( _really loud_ ) grunts and moans from Dean’s throat.  
  
There’s a shift again as Cas makes a move to slide out of his pants and boxers, Dean lifting his own hips to remove the boxers he went to bed in. Dean decides to sit up and kneel on the bed in front of Cas before Cas has a chance to lay back down. They face each other and before either has fully captured their breaths, they’re both clasping each other’s faces roughly to draw close again. Cas’ hands roam northward, tight into Dean’s hair, pulling hard enough that Dean can’t fight it and he lifts his chin, exposing his neck and gasping loudly.  
  
“Sorry,” Cas mutters, loosening his grip.  
  
“No,” Dean says breathlessly. “I like it.” And he does. He really fucking does. He’s all for taking care of his lovers, for soft tenderness, but sometimes he wants someone else to take control and make it clear that he is theirs and that he is wanted. He wants hard muscle, to be rough and get rough back, prickly stubble and the scent of someone musky instead of powdery or flowery. Yeah, he wants a fucking man and  _he loves it._  
  
Cas' grip tightens again and Cas bows his head to trail his teeth, gently nipping here and there along Dean’s neck. Dean clasps the back of Cas’ arms to keep from falling backward whereas Cas’ hands roam everywhere until they finally settle on Dean’s hips, pulling him closer and closer until they finally get what they've been after.   
  
The first contact of their dicks makes them both groan and they loosen their holds on one another without letting go, still kneeling but leaning back slightly so they can lazily rub their cocks together between their stomachs, trying to breathe, to feel every nerve-tingling sensation.  
  
Cas feels… so good. Soft, velvety, thick and firm, veiny and textured. Just the sight of them both bare and touching is getting Dean so close... so very, very close. His breaths come in wispy inhales as he tries to fight off his orgasm and make this last. But the want and need have been such a long time coming that he can’t hold it back much longer.  
  
“Cas, I can’t-- I’m not gonna--” Dean swallows the thick lump in his throat and wraps his fingers around Cas’ erection, reveling in Cas’ deep exhale and rapid eye blinking at being touched, at being jerked off by someone else’s hand. Cas lifts a blind hand to find Dean, finally grasping his cock when Dean leans his hips forward.   
  
The much-needed pressure of deft fingers around his cock, the few careful but firm pumps of Cas’ fist around him, sends Dean spiraling over the edge. His cock pulses as it spills over Cas’ sculpted, soft hands and through his orgasm his pressure around Cas tightens as he pumps him, sending Cas along the edge right after him, hot cum covering Dean’s fingers.  
  
They’re both a little shaky when they lift up from where they sit on their knees, lips meeting chastely to let each other know that this was okay, that this was good. Dean pulls back, feeling a little shy that he... _holy-fuck-just-made-out-with-and-jerked-off-my-best-friend._  
  
Yeah, that.  
  
Cas slides off the bed to grab tissues, tossing the box to Dean after he grabs some to clean himself up. Dean cleans his hands and stomach off where cum had dripped, watchful as Cas puts on a t-shirt and boxers. He tosses Dean his discarded boxers from off the floor. The lights go out as Dean shimmies himself back into his boxers before moving down under the light blanket, holding it up for Cas when he rejoins him.  
  
They adjust themselves together, Dean snuggled in the crook of Cas’ arm that Cas wraps against his back tightly, Dean trapping one of Cas’ legs under the weight of his thigh. Dean slides a hand under his shirt to lightly draw his fingertips against the patch of flesh between Cas’ pecs. “Does that tickle?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas breathes, shuddering. “Dean, I--”   
  
“What?”  
  
“All I thought about tonight was you.” His voice is soft but the words come out loud in the quiet room.  
  
Dean swallows hard to try and keep himself in check but the words won’t stay down and they surface into two words of affirmation. “Me, too.”   
  
In the morning Dean wakes to find they’ve both rolled onto their sides, Cas having turned toward Dean’s back, his arm still pillowing Dean’s neck. Cas’ other arm is draped over Dean to keep him snuggled in place. Dean revels in the feel of being wrapped tightly in someone’s arms. No not any someone, but in _Cas’ arms._   
  
He had no pre-conceived plan when he came to Cas’ room but he likes where it ended up. He’d have gone all the way, would have laid himself bare and weeping and shuddering under Cas but they still have a few things to discuss. He has to be sure of what Cas wants, that Cas isn’t just offering himself like a sexual sacrifice in the service of a friend. Last night was perfect, it was enough. And Dean would take a single night like it again over a million random one-night stands. But, he realizes, he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing like all the others...  
  
He rolls over in the circle of Cas’ arms in order to face him and laughs when Cas curls around him tighter, groaning in protest, still not waking. For an angel who doesn’t sleep, much, he isn’t the easiest to bring up from slumber when he does manage to fall asleep. Dean tucks his head under Cas’ chin and breathes deep, closing his eyes, content to wait there all morning until Cas wakes up.  
  
Slowly Cas comes-to, evident by the hands that begin roaming up and down Dean’s back, up and down, going lower until Cas palms Dean’s ass and his eyes blink open.   
  
“Mornin’,” Dean mumbles and presses a kiss to the bit of collarbone peeking out of Cas’ shirt.   
  
“Dean, you’re still here,” Cas says in something like amazement.   
  
“I don’t think I could leave if I wanted. Kinda being crushed here.”  
  
“I, uh, sorry,” Cas says, loosening his hold and rolling onto his back.   
  
Dean leans up on an elbow to peer at him. “Just statin’ the facts. Didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He grins at Cas, stretching up further so he can plant a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. “Mmm. Whaddya say we go make coffee and eat that pie?”  
  
Cas goes off to start the coffeepot while Dean relieves himself. He runs into Sam as he exits the bathroom. Sam’s WTF brows met with Dean’s wiggly brows before Dean dissolves and confesses that nothing… much... happened.  
  
“Sure, that was totally nothing. Whatever you say, Dean. I have eyes.” And as an afterthought Sam grouchily adds, “And ears.”   
  
Dean’s expression feels pinched as he searches for words to convey the importance of everything that has transpired. “Alright, something did happen. But this is…” Dean waves a hand up in the air like he can conjure up the words, “more. Sam,” he sighs, "it ain't a one-and-done deal. If Cas wants, anyway."  
  
Sam’s disgusted bitchface eases away and he nods a couple of times. “Yeah, okay. Okay, I see what you’re saying. In that case, carry on. Just, please, shut the fucking door next time.”  
  
Sam walks off muttering about house rules and lack of respect and maybe something about gouging his eyes out and investing in noise-canceling headphones, to Dean's utter delight.  
  
Dean finds Cas in the kitchen and over a plate of pie they tentatively lay out things that should’ve been said long ago, each waiting for the other to make a definitive move.   
  
“So does this mean you’ll stop going out with Luc or…” Dean lets his voice trail off, unable to meet Cas’ eye as he takes a big gulp of hot coffee, afraid of the answer.  
  
“Why would I do that?” Cas asks. Dean is still swallowing his drink, unable to respond, when Cas presses on. “Oh, because of our secret lives? I don’t know, Dean, it is nice having a friend and he’s taught me much about humanity, and even about you. But you’re probably right, it may put him and his child at risk.”   
  
“No, Cas, that’s not what I’m asking. The guy has been trying to date you. Ya know, romantically?”  
  
Cas looks offended and blinks down at his mug. “No, that’s not right, he’s…” If they were still in that Looney Tunes of a case Dean knows he would’ve seen a lightbulb appear and illuminate above Cas’ head. “Oh. Shit.”  
  
Dean cannot control the laughter that bubbles up, 1). because Cas just cursed, which is always funny because it is so rare and sounds hysterically foreign in his voice, and 2). Cas was completely oblivious and disinterested in Luc this entire time.  
  
“Dean, what do I do?” Cas asks him desperately as Dean tries to stop laughing, wiping a tear away from the corner of one of his eyes.  
  
“First, you’re gonna finish your coffee. Second, you’re gonna go get dressed. Third, you’re gonna get in my car and we’re gonna go pick up our mugs because I made mine for you and I wanna see you drink out of it every single morning hereafter, even if it leaks, because I had no clue what I was doing.”  
  
“Okay, but what _do I do_ about Lucas?” Pained blue eyes meet him, search his steady green ones.   
  
Dean sighs deeply. “You tell him the truth, whatever your truth may be, Cas. If you want to see him, date him, then that is what you tell him. If it’s not then…”  
  
“I think I made myself very clear to you last night about what I want,” Cas says so forcefully Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, he’s sure of it. Dean snakes a hand across the table, past the half-eaten pie, and takes Cas’ fingers and he doesn’t even let go when Sam walks in and asks what the plan is for the ghost hunt.  
  
Dean lays it out. “Sam, you find out where the kid is buried. If we find out he or she was cremated then we go in late, when the neighborhood is asleep. Maybe 2 a.m.? Considering the haunting moved with the parents, I’m banking on there being something at the house that we need to burn like a lock of hair, a saved tooth, umbilical cord clamp.”  
  
Sam screws his face up. “An umbilical cord clamp?”  
  
“Yeah, some parents save ‘em, I guess. And sometimes bits of blood and flesh dry to it. I learned that when I lived,” Dean pauses, not wanting to mention Lisa, settling on, “in the suburbs. The things soccer moms talk about, yeesh.”  
  
Dean squeezes Cas’ fingers and lets go, getting up to put away the rest of the pie. They’ve got mugs to go get and Sam has some snoopin' to do.


	10. ~ Cas ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit is about to get real.

It is strange being in Lucas’ neighborhood in the dead of night. They’ve driven over in the Impala, coasting into the adjacent neighborhood behind the house in question. It isn’t the quietest vehicle, and it is easily recognizable, but it has all their weapons and Cas’ truck isn’t much more inconspicuous.

Sam discovered what they all suspected: the body was cremated. It is almost a relief. Burning something small like a ringlet of baby hair is a much smaller pill to swallow than having to handle the remains of the child. They also discovered the child’s name was Micah, a 9-year-old boy, killed in an accident.

Cas is donning his usual wardrobe for the hunt; his suit, tie and trench coat. It just feels right and it’s perfect for keeping his angel blade tucked inside, though he knows he most likely won’t need it. The three of them load up their arms with salt and iron, each have a couple matchbooks and lighters in their pockets.

They work their way through yards, avoiding the ones that have floodlights and pick the lock on the backdoor that leads into a kitchen… and everywhere they turn there are boxes upon boxes piled up.

Dean dumps the salt and iron that he’s holding onto a clear space of kitchen counter and pulls out a pocket flashlight. A quick beam around the kitchen, then dining and living rooms show them that there’s barely any floor space but many, many boxes.

Dean curses. “Shit, shit, shit. Okay, we got our work cut out for us. Ugh, let’s split. Sam, garage? Cas, you take one bedroom, I’ll take the other. We’re looking for some kind of memory book or box of momentos.”

“Got it,” Sam says. “Everyone keep salt and iron. Once the spirit realizes what we’re up to we’re going to have major problems. I don’t think there’s even space to make a circle of salt.”

It is quite sad, the entire situation. Grieving parents that have been holing up in the house with their memories and possessions packed tightly into neat, brown squares. It is clear their child was loved and loved them in return, unable to move on in death and leave them. But put him to rest, they must, so everyone can move on.

Cas moves down the hall and into the smaller bedroom and Dean into the master, which at least has a little more space to move about in. A quick look at the words scrawled on the box and he knows their work is even more difficult. They don’t list what is inside the box, only the room the box should be placed in.

The first box is full of linens. Everything has to be dumped and sifted through for thoroughness. The second box stuffed animals. The third box is more linens, tablecloths, handkerchiefs.

Cas’ hearing is sharp and he can hear Dean in the other room cursing under his breath and kicking boxes when he isn’t finding what he wants. When Cas opens his tenth box he hears the front door rattle and swing open. Dropping his angel blade into his hand he slinks through the shadows and toward the noise.

“Gabbie?” a familiar voice calls out. “What’re you doing here in the middle of the night?”

A man moves closer to the center room encircled on all sides by boxes and a sofa. When he steps into a moonlit patch of room Cas grounds out one word: “Lucas?” His startled voice brings Dean into the room.

“What the actual fuck are you doing in here?” Lucas asks, looking between them. Cas realizes he has never heard Lucas curse before. He points a finger at Cas. “You, I looked you up and you know what I found? Missing person flyers. You lied about who you are and now you’re what? Breaking into my neighbor’s house?”

“It isn’t what you think, Lucas,” Cas says calmly. Dean moves toward the door, trying to come around and keep the man from leaving and calling the police.

“And what do I think? I think your name is James Novak, Claire is your daughter, and you’re a piss-poor excuse of a human being.”

“Hey now, everybody calm down,” Dean orders.

“What-- what are you guys? Criminals? Oh my God, all the rope and chain you were buying. Look, look-- I have a kid and a life. I promise I’ll just look the other way and you’ll never hear from me. Just please, let me leave.”

“Luc, nobody is hurting anybody. Just calm the fuck down. We’re trying to help the Parkers here and if you let us explain then we can put you to work to help because this place,” Dean sweeps his arm around, “is too big a job and we need to hurry.”

Cas move a step closer, his angel blade glinting and drawing Lucas’ attention. Lucas holds up his hands and backs up but Dean has moved the last few steps swiftly to block the door.

“Cas, put the angel blade away, you’re freakin’ him out.”

“A-angel blade?”

“Guys, what is the commotion? Oh shit. Hi, Luc.” Sam steps into the space, flashlight taking a second to land on each of their faces. “Well, guess it’s time for Hunting 101. The garage is stuffed full and I need an extra pair of hands so why don’t you come with me, Luc?”

“You want me to come with you into a garage, completely defenseless?”

Dean growls in frustration. “We don’t have time for this. The ghost can make an appearance at any second, which will make our job even harder.”

“Ghost? Are you kidding me?”

Cas has been watching but even his patience is wearing thin. “Lucas, my name is Castiel. I am an angel. James Novak was a man who allowed me to use his body in order to communicate with humans. He has passed away and I consider this to be my form, for now. Claire knows this and has come to accept this. She is not my daughter but I love her like one.”

“Subtle, Cas,” Dean mumbles as Luc pivots and dives for the door despite Dean being there to stop him. “I know it’s hard to believe. And normally I’d tell Cas to blow up some lightbulbs and show off his powers but his batteries are low. We can’t let you leave, not until we put the ghost to rest.”

“Luc,” Sam says. “Come on, just come with me.”

“We do not want to hurt you but I will tie your ass to something if you don’t put on your big boy pants and give us a chance to explain,” Dean says. “Sam back to opening boxes. Cas, try and deal with him.”

“What is it you’re doing? What are you looking for?” Luc asks when it is clear they won’t let him leave but also aren’t trying to torture and murder him.

“When people die they are supposed to pass on. Micah was too afraid or was not willing and has stayed. He is connected to something in this house, something with his DNA. We are most likely looking for a saved piece of baby hair or a tooth. If we can get that and properly dispose of it, it will help him… move on.”

“This is insane. You realize how insane you sound and look, right? And an angel? Do you honestly expect me to buy this bullshit?” Luc turns to go back to the door again now that Dean has returned to the master but Cas grabs at his arm, pulling him back. He forces Lucas to look in his direction, letting his grace flare up, burning his eyes bright blue.

“Holy shit. I m-m-mean sorry. For cussing.” Lucas looks like he wants to lay on the floor in a worshipful pose but Cas keeps his firmly standing, still holding onto his arm.

“Lucas, I am still the same person you met. Don’t grovel. We need help looking so we can help this family. You wanted to help them, too, so please assist us in the search.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Cas has Lucas follow him back to the small bedroom to resume opening boxes so he can keep an eye on him. “Lucas, I am sorry.”

“For what?” he mumbles, digging through a box full of old beach towels.

“I am sorry I have had to keep my identity a secret from you. I consider you a friend and I am sure this hurts. If you’d like to ask me anything…”

“So this is your work. Your ‘vigilante’ work? You run around fighting ghosts and helping them pass to the afterlife?”

“Actually I was a soldier in heaven up until recently. Angels haven’t really been involved on earth for a long time but one day a command came that there was a soul in hell that needed to be saved.”

“Naturally,” Lucas says dryly.

“Legions of angels were sent to battle hell in order to rescue the soul. I was the one who reached him, a man who sold his soul to a demon in order to save his brother’s life.”

Cas waits and lets the words sink in. Lucas is still rummaging, his movements picking up speed as his fear becomes irritation and anger.

“Wait, a man and his brother… you mean…”

“I pulled Dean Winchester out of hell. I’ll spare you the details, but something changed me through that experience, or perhaps I was always a little different from my brethren. Angels are not as benevolent as humans believe. They’re cold, calculating, emotionless. Angels are meant to take orders and carry them out. But I feel things, things that caused me to doubt my faith in heaven.

“Dean, and Sam, have taught me that I didn't have to do as I was told, not if it wasn't right. My brethren wanted to annihilate a whole town without a care for the inhabitants. I knew it was wrong. So I turned my back on the angels and joined the Winchesters.”

“Now you’re a Ghostbuster. Makes total sense,” Lucas quips. Cas is fairly certain that he is being sarcastic.

“Well, this is only a small part of what we do. There are many other creatures, angels and demons. We’ve battled and defeated many. We’ve also made mistakes along the way.

“You can see why I wasn't forthcoming about who I am, what I do. To reveal too much. It seems unbelievable.”

Cas looks up in time to see Lucas’ breath fog before his lips. “Lucas, that cold you just felt? That’s the ghost. I need you to come with me. We need to get you somewhere safer.”

From the other room Cas hears Dean grunt as he most likely strikes the ghost with iron as no gunshot rang out. He leads Lucas out of the bedroom and down the corridor, down to the kitchen. “Here is iron, that you can hit the ghost with and he’ll temporarily disappear. Also, they can’t cross salt.”

“Ghosts are afraid of iodized salt?” Lucas asks, disbelieving.

Cas grabs one of the boxes of salt still sitting on the counter and frowns at the label. “It’s kosher.” He hands Lucas one of the crowbars before pushing him ahead and into the garage which has a car-sized area of clear space.

“Okay there’s more space here. Sam, Micah has realized what we are up to and has made-”

The door between the kitchen and garage slams shut and the lamp that Sam was using from the workbench sputters. Cas quickly makes a circle of salt in the middle of the floor and instructs Lucas to step inside. Sam and Cas circle around, waiting.

“Guys, I think I’m close in the master,” Dean calls, rattling the doorknob and unable to get in. “You okay in there?”

“Dean, just hurry and find it,” Sam yells back.

Micah appears from thin air and swoops toward Sam while Lucas holds up his hands in self-defense. Cas swipes the iron at it.

“Cas, salt the doors and that window over there. If we can trap it in here then it’ll leave Dean alone.”

“I don’t think I have enough on me,” Cas yells, running over to salt anyway, but Sam has two boxes with him and they make quick work of trying to lock Micah in the garage with them while Lucas complains about the idea of being trapped with a ghost.

“Alright, keep your eyes open, guys,” Sam instructs. “How much you tell him?”

Lucas interrupts, stepping out of the salt circle, clutching his crowbar. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to give him something to use as a weapon. “He told me your brother sold his soul for you. Why?”

“I was killed,” Sam says simply. To go into deep detail about Azazel and his special children is not necessary. “Dean may seem rough around the edges but he has the biggest heart of anybody I know. He didn’t-- he couldn’t let me go. He was willing to go to hell in a handbasket for me.”

Lucas shakes his head and rolls his eyes toward the garage ceiling. “I don’t even know what to say. I had to work the graveyard shift tonight, got home and saw all the lights in here and I find out there’s creatures that go bump in-the-night, quite literally. And now demons, they’re out there cutting deals with people for their souls? Really?”

Sam is alert, watching for the ghost, but continues to talk calmly to Lucas. “Yes, really. I am really sorry you had to find out about any of this. Once you know, life isn’t quite the same.”

Lucas mouth falls opens. “When I asked if I had a chance and you said I didn’t… it kinda makes sense now.”

“No, I don’t think it makes full sense, Lucas. You only have the tip of the iceberg. But maybe a story for another time because--” Sam pauses to listen. “Where the fuck is this ghost?”

A loud crash is heard beyond the door and they realize instantly that they’ve locked the ghost out, not in.

“Dean!” Cas bellows before attempting to open the door. It won’t budge. More noises and Dean’s muffled voice waft in. Dean can’t find the object and fight off the ghost at the same time. “Cover your faces.” Without another thought to the consequences for himself, Cas blows the door into splintered shrapnel and races toward the master bedroom.

He finds Dean draped over crushed boxes like a ragdoll, a smear of blood against the edge of a wall that trails down and ends somewhere behind his head. Every other thing in the room fades away and Cas hones in on Dean, dropping to his knees to lift his limp head into hands, his fingers sticky and wet with hot, fresh blood.

Cas barely registers the action behind him as Sam bursts through the doorway and blasts the ghost with salt shot, spies the envelope Dean had dropped on the ground labeled, “Micah’s First Haircut” and makes a run for the bathroom sink to salt and burn it. He doesn’t realize Lucas is gaping behind him as Cas runs shaky, bloodied hands over Dean’s face.

Sam drops next to him moments later, the lingering scent of struck matches clinging to his clothing. “Is he-- is he dead?”

“No, but he’s fading. He-- he’s got a bleed on his brain, there’s swelling. Sam, I have to do it. I don’t know what this will do to me but I can’t-- I just can’t let him die.”

Before Sam can protest Cas leans forward and presses his lips to Dean, giving every last drop of grace to this human that he loves so dearly. Their lips burn so bright blue it becomes blinding white, trails of vein glow all along Dean’s body as the grace is carried throughout his body to heal him.

Cas puts all the love and memories he can into the transfer, in case he never has a chance to tell Dean himself. Now Dean will know, he will feel it for himself, just how much Cas has loved him, the secret things Cas has done for him, explanations for all the wrongs he’s tried to right.

From the edges of his mind Cas can hear Lucas’ startled gasp and Sam’s frantic voice calling his name before everything goes black.

 


	11. ~ Lucas ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This gets kinda meta, which I wanted to avoid, but DEAN needs to hear it. Okay? Okay.

Lucas watches in barely suppressed horror as this… this… creature kisses Dean and lights the guy up like a Fourth of July firecracker. Luc has to be in some weird alternate reality, a dream, ---no--- a nightmare. He just has to be. Maybe he’s hallucinating from fatigue and the late hour.   
  
Sam is trying to grab at Cas and pull him off, yelling, but whatever power Cas is using knocks Sam back. It doesn't stop him from bellowing, “He’ll never forgive you if you do this, Cas. Cas!”   
  
The blinding white light sparks once more in a burst and then they’re left blinking into darkness, strange shadows left where the light temporarily blinded their eyes. Lucas blinks several times and can hear Dean moan before he can clearly see him.   
  
“What the hell happened?” Dean asks, sitting up like his head hadn’t just been cracked open. The instant his eyes look down he slides off the boxes to slump next to the now still body of, uh, an angel.    
  
Cas doesn’t look like an anything that Lucas thought an angel would look like and he definitely didn’t believe a word they were saying earlier. He was only humoring them, going along with what they said until he had a chance to escape.    
  
And now that he has seen this otherworldly display from the ordinary, dark-haired man who looks completely human, there is no doubt in Lucas’ mind that Cas had been speaking the truth about being a celestial being.   
  
“Cas, what the hell did you do?” Dean moans. He looks up to his brother who is now standing and hovering, nervousness making him shift back-and-forth between his two feet. “Sam?”   
  
“Dean, I’m-- I tried to stop him. You were dying and he healed you. I think he used all, if not most, of his grace. Your whole body was just… glowing with it.”   
  
Dean turns back to Cas and gently cups the sides of his neck, trained fingers feeling for a pulse. There’s a slow exhale of relieved breath. “We need to get him to the bunker. You,” Dean says, turning to Luc. “You’re a nurse?”   
  
“I’m a nurse assistant, an orderly.” Luc holds up his hands. He doesn’t want any part of this and his gut twists, knowing what they’re going to force or ask.    
  
Dean seems to consider what few options he must have for dealing with an angel that appears to be dying and Luc knows what conclusion he comes to even before Dean nods, nostrils flare out and he grinds out the words, “You’re comin’ with us.”   
  
“I-- What? I thought you were letting me go.”   
  
“As far as I know, you were wanting to get in his pants not even 24-hours ago. Now you’re ditchin’ him because he isn’t everything you wanted or expected? You don’t know him and you have no idea what he’s done to save your ass, to save the world.”   
  
Luc’s pride and stubbornness flares but quickly extinguishes when Dean looks back down to lovingly brush Cas’ hair off his forehead before he stands.    
  
“Alright, I’ll help, but then I’m gone. You don’t kill me, I don’t breathe a word.”   
  
Sam looks up at him sharply. “No one is killing anybody. Like we said earlier, we were only trying to help.”   
  
“How is this helping? These bereaved parents are going to come home to bloody walls and their house torn apart, their child’s keepsake burned in the sink.”   
  
Sam gives him a look of pity, as though Luc can’t possibly comprehend the bigger picture, but he does get it. He gets that this means that their child won’t haunt them anymore, beyond their nightmares anyway. Luc is just confused, angry and doesn’t like feeling cornered so he’s lashing out, making excuses.   
  
“Enough talking. You guys gather up our shit and meet me at the car.” With an impressive feat of strength, Dean leans down and scoops Cas up into his arms, takes a moment to adjust his hold, and then walks out and toward the back door as though Cas weighs nothing.    
  
Luc silently follows Sam, picking up crowbars, a flashlight and salt containers. Sam finds bleach and paper towels under the kitchen sink and tries to remove as much blood evidence as he can before he mumbles, “Fuck it. They all think Dean’s dead anyway,” which makes zero sense but Luc doesn’t ask.   
  
Once they settle into the car, Dean hands Sam the keys from the backseat where he’s cradling an unconscious, full-grown angel-in-a-man’s-body body, so Luc slides into the passenger seat.   
  
“I always thought that one day I’d be trusted enough to get to see where you guys go and what you do but I didn’t expect it to be like this. I’m-- I’m sorry for freaking out back there.”   
  
Sam has the sympathy expressions down like a pro. He’s obviously the peacekeeper of the bunch. Dean snorts in disgust from the backseat when Sam says, “Well this is a pretty big deal. We are about to take you to our secret lair and are trusting you beyond your comprehension. We don’t just do this for anybody.”   
  
“Secret lair? Makes it sound ominous, like you have a dungeon.”   
  
“We do, actually, but it’s usually reserved for demons and the King of Hell,” Sam stares straight ahead as he drives but there’s a hint of something there, maybe amusement, so Luc isn’t sure if he’s serious or making a joke.   
  
“Do I even want to know?” Luc asks after a heartbeat. He doesn’t think he does.   
  
“Crowley, the King of Hell, that’s another story. Do you have any questions about hunting or…”   
  
“Yeah, why him?” Luc turns and looks into angry green eyes. “Why’d Cas pull you out of hell? Does he just go around pulling out souls or are you some kind of special?”   
  
It’s Sam who answers. “It’s a freaking long story but we’ve got a 40-minute drive so buckle up and settle in.”   
  
By the time Sam is done explaining that Dean was saved to help prevent the apocalypse and how they ended up freeing Lucifer who later possessed Sam, the angelic intervention that ensued, and a whole lot of information on grace and vessels, Luc wants to throw up. These people, they live a life no one can fathom.    
  
Luc twists in his seat so he can lean against the door and see both of the brothers. “So let me get this straight. An angel pulled you out of hell and then rebelled against Heaven. And he told you that he did all of it for you? Don’t you think that sounds… romantic?”   
  
“Don’t feel romantic,” Dean mumbles, the first thing he’s said in a long time. He’s got his chin to his chest, running his fingers through the dark hair in his lap. “It feels… messy and chaotic and complicated.”   
  
“Love usually is, though, isn’t it?” Luc asks knowingly, all those puzzle pieces that make up Cas, that Luc had been so curious to put together, click into place. And it is clear that many of the pieces have Dean Winchester painted upon them. Dean just stares at him with a hollow, unreadable expression.   
  
Luc didn’t see it before, maybe because Dean tried too hard to resist, or maybe because Luc chose to ignore it. Most likely it was both and explains Sam’s comment about Dean being an idiot. Dean sure seems to ‘get it’ now as he watches over Cas in the backseat.   
  
“They’ve literally been through hell, heaven and purgatory, the past and the future together,” Sam says, like he’s merely reading the sports column in a newspaper, with all the nonchalance in the world.    
  
“Okay, yeah, sure. That isn’t the craziest thing I’ve heard this morning, so sure. Time travel. Are there aliens, too?”   
  
“No, don’t be ridiculous, Luc,” Sam says, brow furrowed, before he smiles softly. It helps ease the tension a little. Luc still isn’t sure he should believe these wild tales but he saw so much strangeness with his own eyes not even an hour ago.    
  
Luc searches his mind, trying to fill in all the holes. “So he is possessing someone, the missing guy from the posters I saw online?”   
  
Dean bristles, this topic obviously hitting a nerve. “Possessed, past tense. Jimmy  _ let _ Castiel possess him. Cas died, Jimmy got all nice-n-cozy in Heaven and Cas was rebuilt so now it’s all him. Cas ain’t like the other angels. He actually has a goddamn heart. He felt so much guilt for what happened with Jimmy and with Claire, and with everything else that’s happened, that he’s done nothing but try to make up for it.”   
  
“Yeah, and what else has happened?” Luc asks. Why not get all the dirt on these crazy-ass people?   
  
“Hmm, long story short? Purgatory was opened and monsters got out. Tried to put ‘em back but the worst of the worst stuck around inside of Cas’ vessel. He went around the world smiting humans, doling out justice. After that, well, I thought he was dead for a long time,” Dean says quietly. “That- that was a hard time.”   
  
“Oh my God, was he the guy who went on that crazy killing spree?” Their silence confirms it. “How can you stand to forgive and to-- to accept that he went crazy like that?” Luc looks down at the sweaty, pinched face of the unconscious angel and feels his insides recoil.    
  
“Hey, he wasn’t himself, okay? He was hyped up on God-power, fueled by billions of souls. We-- we know each other. We bleed and die for each other. When we were stuck in Purgatory I murdered countless monsters and befriended a friggin’ vampire in order to find and save Cas. And when I was a demon, and under one of the worst curses you can imagine, he didn’t give up on me.”   
  
“You were a what?” Luc can feel the strain of his vocal chords as he hits high notes that his voice isn’t used to carrying.    
  
“De-mon,” Dean says, emphasizing each syllable. “We all have our problems, our mistakes. Maybe some aren’t as cosmic and deadly but everyone is worth being saved if they can bounce back and try to do better. Cas came back, saved the fucking world and in doing that he lost everything. You can’t tell me that you haven’t seen his kindness and his guilt, even without knowing his backstory.”   
  
“I suppose I have sensed it,” Luc murmurs.    
  
“Glad you met us, huh?” Dean shakes is head and laughs humorlessly. “We were just on a supply run, mindin’ our own business and you just had to hit on the nerdy guy with wings, who happens to be a friggin’ sweet person. He just wanted to be nice and make a friend but you can see why the rest of us weren’t keen on the idea because people always get pulled into this shit-show one way or another.”   
  
Dawn is beginning to show her colors along the horizon when the rumbling old car pulls up to an imposing building and is parked into a garage full of even more old cars.   
  
“Welcome to our abode,” Sam says, grunting as he unfolds himself from his seat and stretches.   
  
“We’re gonna get Cas settled into bed and then you’re gonna look him over and tell us what the hell is going on and if he’ll be alright.”   
  
“You do realize that I am not qualified.”   
  
“Did I ask for your medical degree? You’ll figure it out,” Dean bites out.    
  
“Dean,” Sam says in a warning tone, tipping his head and raising his brows but Dean pretends he doesn’t see nor hear his brother.   
  
Luc follows Dean through the garage and down stairs and through corridors until they come to an area with several bedrooms. Dean lays Cas down in one of the rooms, on an old bed that he assumes is from the 1950’s. The furnishings are bare, the room lacking anything personal or warm.    
  
“Alright, what’s going on with him?” Dean asks, his eyes trained on Cas’ face as he speaks to Luc.    
  
Luc sighs and steps forward. Cas has turned an unhealthy pasty-green, his veins a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. He’s soaked in sweat and his breathing is too shallow, too quick. Those are his first observations before he’s even laid a hand to actually count his pulse or get a blood pressure reading.   
  
“He’s a… he’s not human. I’m not sure what is normal for him and what is not.”   
  
Dean crosses his arms and glares. “He’s more human than most people. And his body his human. You’ve seen him and you know just lookin’ at him now that this ain’t normal. Now tell me: What. Do. We. Do?”   
  
“Do you have medical supplies here? I assume you do since you brought him here instead of a hospital. But I have to tell ya, if I can’t get his heart rate down and his BP up you’re going to have to consider taking him somewhere.”   
  
Dean’s eyes flash but he nods in understanding. He flips out his phone and calls Sam, who is somewhere in this big, strange building. “Sam? You’re in the medical bay? Yeah, hurry.”    
  
With his last two words insisting that Sam hurry up, Dean had let down his guard brief enough that Luc saw the fear behind the hard eyes. Luc’s compassion kicks in and he knows that at the end of the day there is a life at stake here, with people on standby who are worried.      
  
“Why don’t you pull up a chair and come sit next to him on this side where you’re out of my way. He’s unconscious but he may still be able to hear us and sense us, okay? We need to get his heart-rate down and get him comfortable. I’ve never seen, well, whatever it was that he did, so I’m not sure exactly what he is going through. He’s definitely experiencing a traumatic shock.”   
  
Sam comes in and wheels a small industrial cart filled with an impressive array of medical instruments and apparatus. Luc grabs the stethoscope first and checks his blood pressure. It’s dangerously low. After that he checks Cas’ eyes which are dilated.    
  
“Do you have more pillows? We need to elevate his legs. And if you’ve got the stuff for it, we really should get him set up with IV fluids. Then we need to raise his blood pressure by putting medication through the same IV,” Luc says, wanting to explain everything.  
  
The brothers waste no time. They calmly respond, Sam going back to get the medication Luc requested as well as IV supplies, and Dean is off to grab as many pillows as he can find. Dean comes back to build a mountain under Cas’ knees before he carefully removes his shoes and socks. He leaves again and comes back with a fresh pair of socks to keep Cas comfortable so Luc can only surmise that Cas is set up in a spare room.    
  
The IV is set up as soon as Sam is back and, once again, Luc is impressed by the resources at their disposal. They aren’t wringing their hands or acting like this is an uncommon scenario. They’re efficient and skilled in every area except diagnosing. Luc feels a tendril of fear. He could get into a lot of trouble for treating Cas and if something happens to him…   
  
Dean returns to the seat next to the bed and Sam silently hands him a towel from the medical cart so that Dean can gently wipe the sweat from Cas’ brow and neck. Luc leans over to check the IV line one more time and sees that the flow is perfect, startled when Sam claps a hand on his shoulder and gently steers him out of the room, closing the door.   
  
Right before it shuts he sees Dean’s shoulders slump, his face falling into his hands, finally letting go of everything he must have been trying to hold in.    
  
“My brother can put on a good show but he’s losing it. Let’s give him some time alone with Cas and then I can set you up in one of the rooms. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”   
  
Luc nods and lets Sam show him around this bunker they call home. They come out into a large room. Everything is concrete and open, and if it wasn’t for the warmth of the wood furniture and dusty old books, he would call it cold and static. But there is something about the place that feels lived-in, settled. Like coming home to a dear old friend.   
  
They have an industrial kitchen that would otherwise seem unfeeling if it wasn’t for the little touches here and there that clearly show that a lot of love is put into meals and their mornings over coffee.    
  
Sam doesn’t say much except to explain a little bit about this being their home-base, their headquarters. Where they apparently fight Kings of Hell and werewolves.    
  
“How did you even get into all of this?” Luc asks, tilting his head to read the spines of books on a shelf when they return to the large, open room. Sam proceeds to tell him the heartbreaking story of the Winchester family before he leads him back to the bedrooms and gives him some time to process and try to sleep.   
  
Luc isn’t sure he can sleep but the moment he lays down on the firm, musty bed he is out and blinking into the dimness a few hours later. It is disorienting because they are no windows and there’s no alarm clock. He pulls out his phone and finds it is almost noon.    
  
He hesitates over the keypad, wondering if he should call for help, call 911. But he doesn’t feel like a prisoner or like he’s threatened. Hell, they didn’t even take his phone. They’re trusting him. Luc takes a deep breath and dials a number.


	12. ~ Lucas ~

Luc pads down the hall to Cas’ room and is starting another bag of fluids. while Dean pointedly ignores him from the seat he’s still sitting in. There’s a knock and Sam comes in with a tray. 

“You gotta eat, Dean. We’re not doing this thing where you check out, so you’re going to eat this toast or so help me. You, too, Luc.” 

“I, uh, called out of work tonight. I’m not sure how long I can take off to help with-- with this, but you have me until tomorrow.” He clears his throat, wondering if this is the moment Sam jumps him for his phone and locks him in their supposed dungeon. 

“We really appreciate that, man,” Sam says. “Cas thinks of you as a friend. He will be very grateful to you for helping him and for helping us.” 

“Sam? What do you think happened? Why won’t he wake up?” Dean sounds exhausted and small. He leans forward and tentatively lays a hand on Cas’ arm, sliding his hand down until his fingers interlace with the limp ones lying against the sheet. 

“When you had the Mark, and were missing for some time, he got really sick from being low on grace. I can only assume that this is the same kind of thing... where he needs to adjust. But I really don’t know, Dean.” 

Luc goes back to his guest room and grabs the simple metal-framed chair that he saw at the desk earlier so he can drag it into Cas’ room. If Luc is anything then he’s a good listener. He listens to stories from his daughter, from the residents at the nursing home and he wants to know more about this new world he’s stumbled into, like Alice falling in the rabbit hole. His initial, fearful surprise over these revelations is dissipating into curiosity. 

He clears his throat, when he’s returned and seated comfortably, and quietly says, “I know only what little Cas has shown me but what is he really like?” 

Dean rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, still holding Cas’ hand. “What time?” he mumbles. 

“What do you mean ‘what time’?” 

“Well, gee, there’s the time he was full-powered angel Castiel, the time he lost his mind, the time he lost his memories...” Dean continues telling Luc about all the many different things Cas has gone through.   
  
From there it snowballs into one long retelling of the past several years of their lives together. The separation, the obstacles but also the fact that they always find each other.

And Luc’s eyes just keep getting bigger and bigger. “He tried to kill you?” he asks, referring to time angels wanted Cas to kill Dean. “And… you’re okay now?” 

Dean’s eyes roam over Luc’s face like Luc is the crazy person. “What part of ‘brainwashed’ did you not understand? He was being controlled."

“Dean, you don’t have to talk about it,” Sam pipes up. 

Dean seems to be lost in his own world, reliving something in his mind, red-rimmed eyes darting back-and-forth across the bed sheet before him. And like revelation, he whispers, “He would rather love me as a monster than to see me dead.” 

The room stills under the weight of those words, Dean’s face frozen in shock, as if this just now occurred to him. Luc shifts in his seat and side-eyes Sam, who looks like he wants to reach out to his brother but is holding back. 

Luc wants to hear more, wants Dean to keep telling the story because it seems like there’s more, but Sam speaks up. “You finally understand just how far gone you two are over each other. It’s about damn time.” 

Dean swallows and squeezes Cas’ fingers. “Something happened. When he healed me it’s like I got his memories, his-- his feelings. It’s not just me, it’s him, too. It’s all in here and it’s…. overwhelming,” he whispers. “I’ve been trying to hold it all in but…” 

Dean lowers his forehead to Cas’ arm. Sam unglues himself from his spot and kneels at his brother’s side, rubbing circles against his back and whispering soothing words. “He’ll wake up, it’s gonna be okay, Dean. It always works out.” 

Luc lets himself out and wanders down the hall to find the kitchen. Sam had made coffee so he helps himself to a cup. The heat burns his throat as he gulps down the caffeine and contemplates the unbelievable stories he’s heard. Some of it still doesn’t make sense. He knows he doesn’t have all the details. But he knows enough. 

Despite all the talk of murder and death, these men are full of faith in one another, compassion, hope and forgiveness. He can see how much damage these curses and mind control issues have inflicted upon them. There is remorse and it seems there has been redemption.    
  
He oddly doesn’t feel afraid anymore. As ridiculous as it sounds he can feel the goodness radiating off of them and maybe that is what attracted him to Cas in the first place. 

Though he’s a fool for believing there was something with Cas, that he could fall in love with him. Cas obviously only has eyes for one human. And this bond that he and Dean have, Luc knows he could never compete. And he doesn’t want to. Not anymore. 

He finds a newspaper and a cozy wingback chair to curl into, giving everyone time to compose themselves before he checks on his patient, a new determination ignited within him to see Cas come back so that Cas and Dean can continue on their journey of the greatest love story Luc has ever heard. It’s full of danger, tragedy, comedy and love. 

For the first time since he walked into the Parkers’ house, Luc smiles. 

After he reads for awhile he hears Sam pass by to go into the kitchen so Luc rejoins Dean. Cas is still unconscious but his color has improved. He checks Cas’ eyes and they’re still dilated. He decides to bicycle Cas’ legs to keep circulation going. 

“He’s your Wesley,” Luc murmurs, still lost in his thoughts. 

“He’s a what?” Dean asks. 

“When he came over we watched The Princess Bride. And he really, really liked it. It seemed to resonate with him on a deep and personal level.” Luc shrugs. “After hearing your crazy tale it makes sense.” 

A ghost of a smile appears across Dean’s lips. “Are you calling me Buttercup?” Dean takes a deep breath and looks sadly toward Cas’ face, eyes drawing over his hair, his eyes, his cheekbones. “Why do I always gotta be the girl?” he mumbles. 

Luc chuckles. “I’m pretty sure the roles are interchangeable. Sounds like sometimes he saves you, sometimes you save him. In the end all that matters is that you save each other and are together, right?” 

Dean looks back up at Luc and gives him a genuine, small smile. “Thanks for listenin’ and letting me talk. Don’t know what came over me but I couldn’t stop. It was just too much. There’s so much to his side of the story that I didn't even know until now.” 

“Yeah, I gotta admit,” Luc says, rubbing the back of his hair, “I’m still not sure if I’m awake or not. The logical part of me wants to deny everything you’ve told me. And yet my instinct, or something, knows you’re right.” 

“And you’re not freaked the fuck out?” 

“I should be, right? Cas was a serial killer, you were a demon. But it’s that instinct or something, man, and I know you’re not those things. Not really. Like I said, I’ve heard a lot of war stories of men committing unspeakable horrors and they weren’t under curses. You just know they’re good, that the guilt that weighs them down testifies to their goodness. In your cases, it sounds like any time something went sideways it was because you were under the influence.” 

Dean chews the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks. Sorry to drag you into all of this.” 

“So why did you guys tell me all of this anyway? I get the feeling that you don’t exactly tell everyone your entire story.” 

Dean huffs and smirks, using his own explanation against him. “Call it instinct.” 

“So you’ve been to hell, heaven and purgatory? What are they like. I mean, if you’re okay telling me.” 

“Why not? We’ve gotten this far.”   
  
After Dean regales him with his experiences in those places, they are quiet for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. 

“You know, it’s not personal. Cas didn’t know you were hittin’ on him.” Dean smiles fondly. “He’s millennium old and idioms confuse the shit outta him. He’s gotten funnier, but he used to be so serious all the time. More than he is now. We use a lot of aliases in our line of work, usually rock legends, and apparently he thought it’d be great to give me and Sam the names Spears and Aguilera.” 

Luc and Dean share a laugh until tears prickle the corner of Luc’s eyes. “Oh wow. Yeah, that’s pretty funny. And I guess it explains the way he talks and some other things. But, Dean, I’m okay. I should be hurt or angry, and maybe I will be later after I have time to process, but I think I’m good.” 

  
  



	13. ~ Dean ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half of the finale. We're here, folks... the end.

This has got to stop. This saving each other  _ at a high cost _ bullshit. Taking a bullet for the other. Taking the other’s pain onto themselves. But… only after Cas is saved.  _ Then _ it has to stop.   
  
Dean runs his thumb over the still hand resting on the mattress and for the dozenth time runs through the fresh memories imparted to him. Memories of Cas protecting him and Sam, of Cas standing up for him to Heaven, of choosing him over everything else, of trying so hard to do the right things in all the wrong ways, of being tortured, of how Dean looks through Cas’ eyes.    
  
Dean swallows and blinks several times, clearing his throat, willing away the feelings. He just wants to be numb right now but he can’t. He needs to be present and he needs to be in his right mind, not drunk off of his ass. Cas deserves that much and Dean owes it to himself, too.    
  
Before this incident Dean had thought that, at most, Cas thought of himself as their guardian or guide. As someone powerful who would protect the meek humans in his charge. And maybe it was like that at first, way-way-way back but not for long. Because Cas found a confidante in Dean pretty quickly after Cas took Jimmy’s vessel for a ride.   
  
No, Cas sees himself as equal to the brothers. Cas sees Dean with suffocatingly deep affection and love, despite his flaws and imperfections. Which, to Dean, are innumerous but Cas doesn’t see the individual problems. He sees the entire package, what all of the parts make up as a whole, the sum. That even the bad parts make Dean who he is: the human being that Cas loves.    
  
Love.   
  
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to fight the prickling behind his eyes. This is ridiculous. He already fucking cried in front of Sam and Luc. He doesn’t need to keep feeling sorry for himself. Feeling sorry for not going after the angel sooner. Sorry that Cas is lying here because of him. Mostly sorry that they just barely scratched the surface, barely got their feet off the ground, and now Cas could be ripped away from him before they can truly be together.   
  
He stands and knocks the chair behind his knees, the legs scraping across the floor, and tries to take deep breaths. The small room feels cramped and suffocating. Or maybe it’s his own brain trying to asphyxiate him.   
  
The door swings open and Luc steps inside again. He gives Dean a slight nod and zeroes in on Cas, observing him with his eyes before taking a wrist for pulse, checking his heart with the stethoscope, and taking his blood pressure with the ancient looking cuff that they found in the bunker.    
  
Dean watches, hopeful. Luc doesn’t look worried so he shouldn’t be either, right?   
  
“So? Anything?”   
  
Luc shakes his head. “I don’t know why he’s not conscious but his vitals all appear to be leveling out. If he doesn’t wake by morning you may want to take him to an actual hospital.”  
  
Dean nods and shoves his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders where he stands next to the bed. “Okay, yeah, I guess that would be… yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Sam is looking stuff up, trying to see if he can find anything.”   
  
“I know,” Luc says quietly. “I’ve been helping him. You guys have quite a selection of books.” Grey eyes lift up to meet Dean. “Just keep talking to him, maybe massage his muscles a bit to keep circulation going, especially after the blood pressure issue.”   
  
“I can do that,” Dean says, relieved to have a task, something he can actually physically do to help. “If you guys need another set of eyes then bring me some books. I’d-- I want to help but I don’t want to--”   
  
“Leave? That’s understandable.” Luc almost sounds clinical, separating personal feelings from the patient. Dean wonders if Luc is still attracted to Cas, still interested. But now isn't the time. And honestly, it doesn’t matter what Luc wants. Dean has the memories of Cas’ time with him as well, and Cas never saw anything more in Luc than a kind human friend.   
  
Luc turns to leave and Dean sits down on the bed by Cas’ legs. His trench coat and shoes have been removed but he’s still in his suit and the fresh pair of socks Dean put on him. Cas also still has several pillows beneath his knees to elevate them.   
  
“Uh, hey, Cas. So you’re in big trouble,” Dean says lightly, sliding his hands beneath Cas’ lower leg to begin massaging his calf. “Just so you know, when you wake up, I’m gonna kick your ass.” There’s no bite to his words.   
  
Dean’s hands move along, squeezing and rubbing muscles, focusing on circulation. “‘Cause you are gonna wake up. You gotta, Cas. I got this huge ‘feels’ download from you and then you check out? Not fair, dude.”   
  
Sighing, Dean moves to the other calf. “So, uh, speaking of… you prob’ly don’t know this but the feeling’s mutual. I mean, I’m at an unfair advantage here ‘cause I’ve got both sides. You’ve only got your viewpoint.”   
  
Dean moves further up the bed and hesitates over Cas’ thighs. It would be easier to massage if he didn’t have the pillows in the way. If Luc said his blood pressure and everything was okay then maybe it’s alright to move them for a moment.    
  
So Dean removes the pillows and sets them in his abandoned chair, before taking a seat on the bed again, beginning with his hands just above Cas’ knee. He uses his fingers and the heel of his hands to knead muscles, pressing and rubbing up and down.    
  
“If there was some way I could, I dunno, reciprocate what you showed me…” Dean looks up from where he’s focused on his hands and lets his gaze rest on Cas’ face instead. “What if I…”

Dean scoots up the bed carefully so he doesn’t disturb anything, the IV on the other side of the bed and out of his way, but still. Can’t be too careful. He settles next to Cas’ bicep and looks down, his normally tan face is pale, with the shock of dark facial hair against the light skin.   
  
Dean runs fingers through Cas’ hair, watching his fingers as the dirty strands sift away, fingertips lighting against Cas’ forehead, down his temple, over sharp cheekbones, until Cas’ jaw is resting in Dean’s palm. Dean palms the other side of Cas’ face, stroking the hair there gently for a second before closing his eyes and resting their foreheads together.   
  
“You shouldn’t have done it. But part of me is glad to know some stuff. How many times you let me rip you a new one over stupid shit and you never raised your voice or hand to defend yourself, man? I know now, though. And things are gonna be different from here on out.”   
  
Dean tilts his head to rest cheek-to-cheek, Cas’ cool to touch against Dean’s warm skin. He moves his lips to brush against Cas’ and whispers, “I promise,” before pressing their lips together and focusing every thought, and all of his energy, into pulling Cas’ imparted grace from his body so he can return it to where it belongs.   
  
He presses harder, eyes squeezed tight, willing the grace away and to go back to Cas so he can wake up. Tears build up behind closed eyes and manage to slip out, Dean’s face reddening with the effort. But nothing happens.   
  
Growling in frustration against Cas’ unresponsive mouth he keeps trying until he’s shaking and gasping from the effort. He kisses Cas’ mouth, his cheeks, his forehead in frustrated, hard presses.   
  
When it’s clear that his idea won’t work Dean pulls back and swipes angrily at his wet face. He takes several deep breaths and rubs his temples in an effort to calm down. 

When his exhaustion overwhelms him Dean kicks off his boots and lays down on his side, throwing an arm over Cas’ stomach, snuggling as close as he can get. . 

“Cas, I’m sorry. For everything.”   
  
Some time later Dean wakes when Sam and Luc come back in, Sam stepping up to the desk to set down a plate. Dean starts to get up, embarrassed to be caught clinging to Cas but Luc is the one to tell him, “No, don’t get up. Just checking vitals again.”   
  
Dean gets up anyway and stretches.    
  
“Eat something, Dean. I brought you a sandwich,” Sam says.   
  
“Yeah, in a minute. Find anything? A spell?” Dean asks coolly, trying to keep keep his desperation in check.   
  
Sam shakes his head. “No. You know that there’s more angel lore than any other creature so there's a shit ton to wade through. And it’s hard to know what’s hearsay and what’s real without being able to factcheck with an actual angel. So far nothing about an angel, in a human vessel, burning out his grace.”   
  
Dean worries his lip and crosses his arms, looking down at Cas while Luc’s skilled hands check him over. “Okay, what if Cas is different? What if he’s human?”   
  
Sam furrows his brow. “What, like when Metatron stole his grace and sent him back to Earth?”   
  
“Exactly. I mean, why was Cas perfectly fine then?” Dean asks, lifting a hand up as he shrugs a shoulder. “He didn’t get sick when his grace was ripped from him by that bastard. But you said he was ill when the grace he stole from that other angel was fizzling out. Why?”   
  
Sam considers a moment. “Huh. Yeah, that is odd. Well, let’s think about what we know. Both times Jimmy was gone by that time, right? So this body was Cas’ own. Maybe Metatron healed Cas after he took his grace? He’d have had the power.”   
  
“Yeah, and then Cas stole grace from a fallen angel. Maybe it wasn’t as powerful because of that? Or maybe because it wasn’t his own grace so it affected him different. Maybe,” Dean says with hope, “his body just needed to adjust to slowly losing grace and he wasn’t actually dying. I mean, he hasn't been at full power lately and hasn't needed to eat but he hasn't been sick.”  
  
Luc looks up at Dean thoughtfully, like he's just realized something, but he doesn't speak. 

“Or maybe Lucas here helped to keep Cas from dying, whereas before, Cas hadn’t sought any help as his body tried to compensate for losing grace.” Sam claps Dean on the shoulder. “He is different, always has been. Chuck fixed him so the vessel is his own. Maybe other angels would’ve died by now but not Cas. Dean, he’s gonna pull through,” Sam says confidently.   
  
“Yeah, I hope you’re right,” Dean murmurs.   
  
Luc looks up again from where he’s removed the IV. “He does look good. Compared to a similar, human man, he’s perfectly normal as far as I can assess. I mean, I don’t have a CAT scan to confirm, but hopefully it won’t come to that. Maybe he just needs to rest and let his body adjust.” Luc pulls his phone out to check the time. “It’s late so you probably should eat and go back to bed, Dean. Nurse’s orders.”   
  
Dean grumbles in affirmation and waits for the other men to leave. He takes a bite of the ham and swiss, decides he doesn’t want it and settles back down against Cas’ side again. Dean slept too long and isn’t exactly ready to fall asleep so he trails his fingers over the blanket covering Cas’ stomach and chest, before reaching across his body to tuck his fingers between Cas’ arm and side.

Cas’ side twitches. 

Dean lifts his head up to look at Cas’ face. “Cas? Cas!”

Dean wiggles his fingers and Cas twitches again, like it tickles. Dean sits up and grasps both of Cas’ shoulders, leaning his face close. He can hear his heart racing in his ears as he watches Cas’ eyes come to life behind closed eyelids, lashes fluttering, lips parting as Cas mumbles, “Dean? Why are you holding me down?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Dean blurts out, letting his head fall to rest against Cas’ chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says to no one in particular.

“What's going on?”

Dean lifts his head. “You're awake is what's going on! You scared the shit outta me!”

They stare at one another a moment, Dean’s shot nerves starting to tremble, Cas furrowing his brow as he tries to figure out where he left off, where the bookmark falls in his life. 

Dean can see when Cas remembers as his eyes open wider. Dean nods, giving Cas a stern look and says, “Yup.”

Cas groans and tries to sit up so Dean leans out of his way without getting off the bed. He's surprised when Cas leans forward and lays his head on his shoulder, hands coming to rest on Dean’s waist. 

They sit there like that for awhile, Dean having wrapped his arms around Cas’ and scooting closer so they could lean and support one another, embracing without words until Cas lifts his head to break the silence.

“I'm-- hungry,” Cas says pitifully. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean huffs, “when you waste the last of your angel juice on some poor schmuck you’re gonna wake up and find yourself human. And hungry.”

Cas scowls. “I didn't waste it. You mean everything to me…”

Dean softens a little inside. “Yeah, I know. Your parting gift helped me see that. What's the real reason you pumped all that info into me, huh? You thought you were gonna die, didn't you?”

Cas looks like he's going to try and make something up but gives up, his face set into a hard line to steel himself from how Dean might respond to his honest, “Yes.”

Eyes lifted toward the ceiling and shaking his head, Dean says, “Well, your kamikaze plan backfired so guess you're stuck with me and all of the consequences as a result of your actions.”

He lowers his gaze and they smile timidly at one another. Dean can't stand it another second, though. He turns his head and reaches to capture Cas’ lips with his own, only pulling away when the door opens.   
  
Luc stands in the doorway, stricken, but he takes a deep breath and smiles. “You’re up!”   
  
“Lucas? What are you doing here?” Cas asks, unmoving, fingers curling into Dean’s waist to silently communicate that Dean better not move the fuck away.    
  
“It appears you’re my patient. You, uh, pulled a pretty reckless stunt back there and we’ve been trying to keep you from dying. So how do you feel?” Luc asks, staying just inside the door.   
  
“Well, like I just told Dean, hungry. A little… groggy, I think is the word.”   
  
Luc licks his lips and nods, rocking on his heels, looking completely uncomfortable. “Good, that’s good. I mean, not that you feel groggy is good. But that you're awake.” Luc takes a couple of steps closer. “So you're… human now?”

“I'll always be an angel, a fallen one. It's my race. But yes, you could also call me human.”

“Fuck,” Luc whispers, looking between Cas and Dean. Again, it's only one of a couple times they've heard him swear. They're such a bad influence on people. 

“What?” Dean asks. 

Luc sweeps a hand between them. “He fell for you. An angel falling for a human… is there any greater love story? And,” Luc says loudly, “he's done it for you more than once.”

Dean lowers his eyes. “Yeah, I, uh, got the memo.”

“Of course. Well, if all is well then this is where I'm going to say my goodbyes. Cas, it was great to meet you, even though I'm embarrassed beyond belief. Dean, I hope I find someone to love, and to love me back, as much as you two.” Luc presses his lips together in a tight smile and raises his hand in a wave before turning to leave. 

Cas looks over and smiles at Dean fondly. 

“What're you smilin’ about?”

“You going to eat that sandwich over there?” Cas asks and Dean laughs, getting up to give Cas the rest of the ham and swiss. 


	14. ~ Cas ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always sad to see things end but I hope you enjoy this. Fluff and smut train ahead. Toot toot!

“Do you think we will ever see Lucas again?” Cas asks the brothers about a week after ‘the incident’. They're in the Library with popcorn, Coke for Sam and two handmade coffee mugs for Dean and Cas, each sat before their laptops for various reasons.

Sam clears his throat. “Actually, he's contacted me about being available in case we need non-emergent medical care. May have another hunter-in-the-making, to some capacity.”

“Sweet,” Dean says, looking up at Sam from his laptop, clearly over his jealousy issues.

“Yes, that is… sweet,” Cas confirms but he must not have said it right because Dean shoots him a glare. Okay, maybe not over his jealousy issues…

“Would you look at the time?” Dean says abruptly, shutting his computer. He stretches in his seat before standing. “I gotta go get ready.”

“What for?” Sam asks, wrinkling his nose as he grabs his soda can.

“Well, baby brother, I got me a hot date.” Dean starts to walk out and calls out, “Don't wait up,” over his shoulder before he disappears from sight.

Sam rolls his eyes. “He's hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I do. I kind of like that look on him, though,” Cas admits.

Sam smiles and clicks something on his computer screen. Without looking up he softly says, “Yeah, me, too. Well,” Sam amends, looking up, “the part I do mind is having to pretend that I don't hear you guys.”

Cas’ body flushes and he stammers, “You know, I told him--”

“I'm teasing, Cas,” Sam laughs. “Well, don't you have somebody picking you up soon? Some hot date yourself?”

“I do. See you later, Sam.”

“Yup. You kids have fun. Tell Dean that I'll be blaring the worst 90’s pop music if I do hear a damn thing later.”

Cas chuckles and heads to his room to get dressed. He puts on an emerald green t-shirt and a blue-green flannel since it will be cooler tonight. It’s one of Dean’s so it smells like him. Cas manages a comb through his hair but he tousles it when done, so it is untangled but carefree.

Dean, ever eager to have Cas try every human experience at least once, had wanted to take him out on a date. Going out with Dean is nothing new. They’ve been to many places over the years, sometimes with Sam and sometimes without. The only thing that has changed is the status of their relationship.   
  
Cas accepted but he had one condition and it was that they did it their way, doing things that they enjoyed, even if they’ve done them many times before as only friends. He wants to relax and enjoy their time together, not force something unnatural in an environment they’re not comfortable in.

Once he’s done getting his shoes on he strolls through the Library again and waves goodbye to Sam, taking the steps two at-a-time to the garage where Dean is waiting for him next to the Impala.

Dean whistles, a low and sweet sound, but it resounds loudly in the large room. As he approaches, Dean looks him over appreciatively. 

“It’s just a flannel shirt and jeans, Dean,” Cas says in exasperation, feeling self-conscious in a way he’s not felt as an angel, even under the most intense scrutiny.

When he’s close enough, Dean leans forward for a kiss but Cas turns his face so that Dean’s lips land on his cheek. He can’t help but chuckle at Dean’s pout. 

“What was that for?” Dean asks.

“Having never been on a date, I wanted to be sure I at least understood the basic rules. I’m a respectable former angel, Dean, and I don’t kiss on the first date,” Cas says, shrugging, biting back a smile.

“Are you kid--okay, you know what? Two can play that game, Cas. You’ve been warned,” Dean says in mock sternness, backing up and opening the passenger door for him.

When they’re both settled into their seats and the car is winding its way toward town, Cas reaches over to take Dean’s hand. “Nuh-uh, I think I need to get to know you better,” Dean teases.

Cas decidedly doesn’t like that his own teasing has come back to ‘bite him in the ass’, as Dean would say. He narrows his eyes as he studies Dean’s profile and considers how to turn this around. 

“What if I told you my deepest secret?”

Dean raises his brows in interest and glances over briefly. “Oh yeah? That might do the trick.”

“Well, Dean, I don’t know how to tell you this but,” Cas squints at him and very seriously says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Dean sputters and laughs. Cas frowns at him. He didn’t exactly expect a sonnet in return, but being laughed at isn’t the reaction he expected either. Maybe a little light-hearted teasing and playful banter, or a denial, but not mockery.

“Cas, that isn’t a fucking secret. Everyone knows that,” Dean finally manages to say. Cas is still a little put-out when he feels Dean’s hand close over his, turning it over so he can place their palms together, fingers entwining. Dean gives a reassuring squeeze. “Pretty cool secret, Cas,” he says softly, staring out the windshield. "And... me, too."

The admittance is a pleasant surprise. Cas sighs contentedly and squeezes Dean’s hand back, relaxing into the buttery soft leather seat and the rumble of the Impala with the familiarity of Dean’s music washing over them as they speed toward a diner.

They spend the evening laughing and flirting over cheeseburgers. Dean admits that he’s sad he won’t get two burgers anymore but Cas reminds him that his waistline might thank him for that fact later. And then he has to remind Dean that sex wouldn’t have burned up enough calories to make up for it either.

Cas is surprised that Dean rushes them out of the diner before they can have dessert. But it all makes sense when they’re walking back to the Impala and Dean says, “So I brought dessert. It’s in the trunk.” 

“Let me guess--pie?”

“Sorta? They’re those turnovers, like you got me before? Pie-on-the-go. Genius.”

They decide to drive to a rural area somewhere between town and the bunker so that they can sit under the stars. They lay on the hood of the car and Cas picks out a random turnover from the bag that Dean holds open.    
  
Dean picks one for himself and takes a hearty bite, eyes locked onto Cas’ lips, always seeming eager to gauge Cas’s reaction to eating something that he hasn’t gotten to taste before. One bite of his own fruit-filled pocket reveals gooey, ruby-red cherry filling.

Dean murmurs, “You got a little something,” and then lifts a thumb to wipe off the filling from Cas’ lips even though Cas was more than capable of licking it off himself. But an idea strikes as Cas watches Dean brings his thumb to his mouth and dramatically sucks the jelly off.

Interested to see what Dean will do, Cas lifts his turnover where he’d bitten it open and draws it across his lips like lip gloss, leaving a thick coat of sticky, sweet cherry.

“What about here?” 

“Oh yeah, I better help you with that,” Dean says huskily, scooting closer, slipping an arm behind Cas and tossing his mostly uneaten turnover to the grass somewhere beyond his back with his other hand. “You’re a friggin’ mess. I can’t take you anywhere, Cas.”

Dean leans in like he’s going to kiss Cas but stops short, slowly tracing the line of Cas’ lips with just the tip of his tongue. The sensation is like nothing Cas has felt before. It tickles and sends electric tingles through his body, but he tries to hold still when Dean starts to gently suck off the more stubborn filling that doesn’t want to come off easily, until it’s all gone and Cas is breathless.

“It’s cold, do you wanna--”

“Yes,” Cas practically growls. “Get in the car.”

Dean slides off the hood and gets into the backseat without another word. Cas gets in from the other side and immediately reaches to grasp Dean by the collar to draw him in. Dean goes willingly, tasting of apples and cinnamon from the turnover he got maybe two bites from, and a hint of cherry.

“Cas” Dean gasps between kisses, “I thought--you said--no kissing--”

“Shhh, stop talking.” Cas lets go of Dean’s collar and starts pushing the flannel shirt down and off of his shoulders. He loves to feel Dean’s chest against his, he wants to feel Dean’s flesh sticky with sweat and burning hot for him.

As soon as Dean is shirtless, Cas lifts his chin so that Dean can trail plump lips down his neck, simultaneously working the buttons of Cas’ flannel open. Humming, pleased with the feel of Dean on him and against him, he suddenly craves trying something new, something different. He wants to feel  _ more _ .

“You still have lubricant in the glove box, right?” Cas asks, smiling when Dean goes stock-still in shock. 

Dean stammers a, “Uh, yeah..?” and pulls back, licking his lips, pupils big and dark. “You wanna? Here?” he asks and Cas nods. “Okay, hell yes.” 

Dean uses the back of the bench in front of them to pull himself up so he can lean over the front seat to reach the glovebox. With Dean semi-bent over the front seat, Cas is face-to-face with Dean’s ass.     
  
Cas decides that he likes right where Dean is at so he scoots to the center of the bench, places his hands flat against Dean’s jean-clad butt and squeezes, hands trailing around to the front to blindly try and undo Dean’s belt. 

Dean goes still and lets him, adjusting his stance slightly when Cas moves to pop the button of his jeans free. The sound of zipper teeth unlocking is obscenely loud in the small space.

“What’re you doing?” Dean asks breathlessly.

“Nothing,” Cas murmurs, taking in a fistful of denim in each hand, “I’m doing absolutely nothing.”

“Okay, well, in that case keep doing nothing,” Dean says as Cas pulls down his jeans to his ankles. Cas then undoes his own pants and, with a complete lack of finesse, manages to draw them down and off, giving him the ability to spread his legs wide with Dean between his thighs..

“Did you find it?” Cas asks, rubbing one hand up Dean’s lower back and holding out his other expectantly for the tube from the glove box. The half-crumpled bottle and a condom packet are pushed into his hand.

Cas sets the items next to his thigh, on the seat, and Dean takes the initiative to bend over the seat even further, causing his hips to jut back toward Cas’ face.

There was a time when Cas came across a porn video, for research purposes of course, where the guy spread his partner’s cheeks and licked him open...

“Holy shit,” Dean yelps, his body jerking in surprise at the sensation of Cas’ hot tongue trailing around his rim. “Okay, okay. That’s new.”   
  
“Do you want me to stop?” Cas asks, pulling back slightly.   
  
There’s a slight hesitation as Dean deliberates, finally breathing out, “Fuck no. D-don’t stop.”

Cas hums in acknowledgement and presses his face between the soft, rounded flesh, pressing his tongue against the puckered hole. The more he kneads Dean’s cheeks and the more he presses his tongue against him, the more Dean tries to sway and rock back. 

He has to press Dean’s hips firmly against the back of the front seat to hold him still, licking and pressing, pushing his tongue in a little, and then a little further, all while Dean tries to unsuccessfully swallow back raspy gasps and deep, low moans.

When Cas pulls away to grab the lube, freeing Dean from being held still, Dean rubs his cock on the leather before him and takes several audible deep breaths.

Cas pops the top of the lube open with one hand and gets his fingers slick, rubbing reassuring circles on Dean’s back with his free hand. Knowing Dean can take it, and with a modicum of impatience, Cas pushes in two fingers to his first knuckles.

Slowly he glides in and Dean presses back, eager for more. A soft moan escapes from Cas’ lips as he adds a third finger a minute later. As soon as Dean is ready for him, Cas takes a moment to roll on the condom and add an extra squirt of lube, stroking it over the latex covered shaft.

“You said,” Cas’ voice thick, hands moving to Dean’s hips, guiding the man down toward his lap until Dean is just hovering, legs trembling, “that you wanted to be a cowboy. I want you to ride me.”

Dean looks over his shoulder in surprise. “F-fuck, Cas,” he pants but he doesn’t argue or disagree. Dean faces the front of the car again but reaches between his thighs to grip Cas’ dick firmly and hold it steady.    
  
From one breath to the next, Cas is breaching the tight ring of muscle and he nearly loses his mind from the sensation of being  _ inside _ of Dean and he isn’t even all the way in yet. But he lets Dean set the pace, fingers digging into the curves of hip bones in an effort to prevent himself from pulling Dean down all the way and undoubtedly hurting him.   
  
As soon as Dean is fully seated, hips rolling in slow circles as he adjusts to Cas’ girth, Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s waist, across his stomach and up to his chest, effectively pulling Dean back into his chest and pinning him.    
  
Needing to have Dean even closer, Cas slouches down on the seat and opens his legs wider, thrusting up once. Dean arches his back in response, his head falling back on Cas’ shoulder.    
  
With Dean wrapped tightly against him, a thumb and a finger each teasing a hardened nipple between them, Cas’ lips seek out freckled, salty skin. He nuzzles and kisses along the large tendon of Dean’s neck, his own body unmoving as Dean continues his small movements of rocking against Cas’ groin.   
  
Cas finds the perfect spot to gently bite when his mouth finds the hinge of Dean’s jaw. The action seems to drive Dean a little wild for more friction because his rolling hips becoming more insistent. 

In this position, Dean is at the mercy of whatever Cas gives him, unable to do much more than hold up his weight be grabbing Cas’ thighs for balance. With each upward thrust that Cas gives, he pulls Dean’s ass down to meet him, a slow drag so that he can relish in every ridged inch of Dean.   
  
Dean’s next words are whispered harshly next to Cas’ face. “That all you got? Ngh--come on, Cas, harder.”    
  
Cas gives a decidedly harder bite and pulls Dean against him, pushing in deeply, Dean gasping and encouraging Cas to do it again,  _ moremoremore _ . Cas’ thrusts come quicker, Dean’s cock bouncing on his lap with the motion of their locked bodies.    
  
When the building pressure becomes too much, when Cas knows he’s so very close to the end, he lets go of one nipple and moves his right hand lower and lower to seek out Dean’s cock, stroking with a still lube-sticky hand once he gropes him.    
  
“Cas, yes, fuck. Touch me,” Dean gasps.  

Cas simultaneously wishes this could last forever and yet he’s eager to bring Dean barreling over the edge along with him. He continues to pump his fist over Dean, twisting his wrist on each upstroke, his rhythm stuttering when the pressure becomes much stronger than his resistance.   


Dean must feel the same way because his entire body tenses up, his cock pulsing in a steady beat to the measure of his release. Cum leaves sticky, hot tracks as it dribbles down the back of Cas’ hand.    
  
But the orgasm also causes Dean to lock up, his muscles squeezing so tight that Cas is nearly immobilized and can do very little but hold on and let that taut, quivering rim send him careening over the edge.    


They both take a moment to catch their breath. Dean chuckles and his body slowly relaxes. He melts back into Cas in a sweaty, sticky mess. Cas adjusts his arms around Dean, wishing they could stay like this forever, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s cheek before planting a tender kiss there.

“Damn, Cas. I didn’t even know you knew what Reverse Cowboy was.” Dean gingerly sits up, hissing a little, and Cas helps him get off of his lap. 

“I have been doing my homework, so to speak,” he replies, to which Dean laughs at heartily. 

They find wet wipes in the glove box and try to untangle their boxers from their pants, putting themselves back together before they begin the drive home.

“I thought I was s’posed to ride you,” Dean chastises lightly when he gets behind the wheel. “But you just--you--fuck, Cas.” Dean starts up the car, apparently unable to find more proper verbiage to explain what they just experienced together.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cas says wryly. He watches Dean drive, pleased by the soft smile about his lips, the usual tenseness around his eyes gone.

Cas feels that familiar lethargic pleasure that he gets after he’s ejaculated, and he wishes that they were already home, wrapped up under the covers, in each other’s arms. He settles for holding Dean's hand in the space between them.

Several minutes into their drive Cas can feel Dean’s phone vibrate against the back of his hand. They let each other go long enough for Dean to pull it out of his pocket and hold it out for Cas to read the text message.  

“It’s from Sam. He said that we need to pick up more salt because we used almost all of it at the Parker’s house.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah right.”

“He’s asking if we can go since we are already out.”

Dean recaptures Cas’ hand once the phone is set aside, kissing Cas’ knuckles as he watches the road before them. He chuckles and chances a glance at Cas. “Nah, let Sammy take the next supply run. Who knows? Maybe he’ll meet somebody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story 'Supply Run'. 
> 
> Drop a line and leave a heart if you enjoyed the story. 
> 
> Love you all!
> 
>  
> 
> ~TheTwistedWillow~


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